Lord Voldemort Savior of the North
by gridlocker
Summary: After conquering the world, a very bored Lord Voldemort decides to cross dimensions in search of adventure. It leads him to be born as the son of Lyanna Stark and given his inherent megalomania, the new Lord of the North.
1. Lord Voldemort the Savior of North

AN: _As stated in my other story, I am not a particularly good writer, especially when it comes to creative writing. I tend to write in a dry manner befit of after action report which means dialogs, flair simply escapes me. Not much I can do really. And, I haven't really focused on fixing the grammar that much, mainly the tense (paste or present) – my bad. I tried to write by imagining the character's thinking and well, as you might imagine, the past/present/future got mixed up and getting them cleaned up appeared to be somewhat impossible. This story was somewhat inspired by "The Game of Lord Voldemort (_ _Barbasulrico)" but has nothing to do with it. Didn't even realize this fact until after seeing the said title on the update list - hadn't read that one for a long time but the idea was apparently stuck deep in my head._

I am Lord Voldemort. I was the greatest dark lord Earth had ever seen. Harry Potter was the only one who had managed to bring me close to death.

If you have read the books and thought, "What is so great about a dark lord killed by a teenager using a disarming curse?", then you should know this – the author of the book, some stupid old biddy named Raling, Roling something used to be my low level death eater.

That right you worthless muggles – Baling was a death-eater who thought writing a book about the greatest dark lord being destroyed by teenagers would raise hopes for all you filthy bastards. The poor woman was deluded to believe that I would let myself be insulted even if it would mean an easy victory. Ha – I finally figured out a way to crucio via. my eyes. Caling still lives getting a daily dose of crucio and as a testing board for any torture techniques I come up with.

Anyway, it had been over 100 years after I completely wiped out the muggles when I finally realized my folly – without muggles, there wasn't anything worth killing ! At least for fun anyway. The world had grown to be a very boring place. But again, after killing over 1 billion people by my own hand and the rest either by death eaters or through magical means of mass destruction, killing had lost it's charm.

Before you worthless pussies shout about where did all the special forces go? Where did all the nukes go? You should know one thing – I offered magic to the best muggles there are. A shitload of your best scientist jumped to get magic. Just about all your special forces were happy to have magic – PTSD and compulsion charm work so well together. As for the nukes, we wizards have created counters for them almost from the get-go.

So, 100 years after conquering the world, here I am, bored. After a lot of study in runes, arithmancy and space-time physics (never say you muggles had nothing good), I had designed a way to travel to a new dimension. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't take anything material with me but that didn't truly matter because with all my rituals, I had the sum total of all magical knowledge inside my soul. Just to be on the safe side, I had also consumed the brain (in spiritual sense, not physical sense you cannibalistic moron) of several martial artists. My magic would go with me but you never know how strong it would be – so, a bit of martial arts to help myself is always a good thing.

It takes almost 1 week for the ritual to complete but, in the end I wake up as a new-born. I am not sure where "this is". What I know is that, I must not more then six month old. More importantly, my mother is lying next to me and she doesn't seem to be good – perhaps a few weeks left in her. Infection probably. Lack of proper food definitely. Do I let her die or do I save her? Conundrum.

I always thought how different I would be if I had a mother – perhaps I should try that. I check my magical reserves and find they are almost as strong as they were when I did the ritual. Dragging my tiny infant body towards her, I slowly heal her, not fast enough to raise suspicion but enough to return her strength. As my usual mo (justified by need for survival), I learn her name and everything about this world.

Her name is Lyanna Stark. She was supposed to marry an oaf called Robert Baratheon but instead ran off with a Targaryen prince, who she thought she was in love. However, it turns out the prince simply wanted her for some prophecy. I could sense her anger for being used as a brood-mare. The targ king had killed her father and brother for the hell of it. He younger brother and the oaf had started a rebellion. When the Targ prince, a formidable warrior had walked off to fight, in an act of defiance she had sabotaged his armor. Not just that, showing a cunning worthy of Salazar himself, she tricked him into falling down the stairs causing his ankles to sprain. The end result? Targ prince couldn't fight for shit. And now, he is dead.

No matter what, she loved me. I had none of the targ features. I was 100% Lyanna. The next thing I learned was she did not want to return and be forced to marry the oaf who might just kill me for being a Targ spawn. So, I planted a minor suggestion of creating a different noble name, Lady Slytherin. Since her younger brother was coming to this desert to retrieve her, she might be able to convince the lad to go along with it – or I could fuck with the muggles mind. No sweat of my back eh?

Tired, I feel asleep. Never saw the slight smile that finally graced her face, nor did I see Lyanna hiding a knife under her dress.

The next day, I woke up to the sound of swords clashing. I could hear mother praying that it be her brother coming to rescue. She was praying extra hard for the death of all the kingsguard. Apparently, she didn't like them too much.

Soon enough, Ned Stark strolled into our room and greeted her.

"Lyanna – it seems you are all right. You were never kidnapped by the Targ, were you?" - he is a bit frosty.

"I am sorry Ned. I did not want to marry your friend who was eying me like a piece of meat. After seeing his conduct, I was already devastated. Then the targ came with his honeyed words and I just didn't know. Forgive me please !" - Lyanna.

Instead of understanding where his little sister is coming from – even I a dark lord would have understood that – the fool roars, "You should have done your duty! You were ordered to marry my best friend. You will do so. You will not insult him. It is your fault father and Brandon are dead !"

Lyanna is now truly sobbing and says, "What about my son? What will he do?"

Ned seems to cool down and replies, "I will take him as my bastard and once he is old enough, he shall join the nights watch"

Lyanna pulls out her knife and growls, "No – you will not do that. My son will not suffer the fate of a bastard. Nor will I suffer that oaf."

I am not sure what she plans to do but I know neither of their plan is good. Ned's idea of forcing my mother (funny how I, the greatest dark lord am thinking of this woman as mother – did the ritual had some side-effect?) to marry my mother to that oaf was simply unacceptable. So, looking into the brute's eye, I strike with my Lord Voldemort's patented legilimency.

Riffling through his mind, I start planting ideas of how both mine and mothers existence should be kept a secret. Mother's new name as Lady Slytherin and mine as Lord Voldemort is cemented inside him. I start instructing him on how to handle the secrecy and soon enough, he is my puppet.

He is frozen for a second and then, he replies to Lyanna, "OK – I understand what needs to be done. I will tell Robert you died here at the Tower of Joy. We will go from there, OK?"

Lyanna gives him a nod and then smiles at me. She rubs a playful finger around my

"And who will I be?" - Lyanna.

At this, things go a different way – sometimes, magic has a will of it's own.

"From now on, you are Miriam Stark, born Slytherin, wife of my long dead brother Brandon. You son will be named as, Brandon "Voldemort" Stark. If anyone were to ask, we shall tell them Brandon married you days before the tourney at Harrenhal. You have been living in the Crofters village by yourself and a few servants because you were afraid what the mad king might do. Only myself and Benjen know what happened. I will have Lord Reed escort you to Winterfell with a letter to Benjen – from there on, you will be the Lady of Winterfell and your son will in future, take over as the Lord of North." - Ned

Hot damn – I didn't even have to phrase all that into his mind. Just setting his mind on what to do had the poor muggle dancing to my tune. Lyanna is ecstatic, she jumped to her feet and hugged him, "Thank you Ned."

"Don't worry – Brandon will be safe. We will make sure that he becomes a true Lord Stark." - Ned.

Lyanna simply cradles me but I manage to catch her stray thoughts, "Fool – what do you know of being a Stark? Raised by a southerner. All you know of north are just stories, nothing more, nothing less."

As we all walk out of the Tower of Joy, I look around the dead bodies. These medieval muggles truly know how to enjoy a bit of bloodshed. My death eaters would have loved it here – should I create them here? The potions needed to provide a muggle with magical core needs some very rare ingredient and I am not sure whether it can be found here.

Lyanna however, is smiling. The dead kingsguard seems to be making her day – sweet – my mother has a sadistic streak. Let's cultivate that a bit more.

Ned looks solemn as he confers with Howland Reed regarding the fate of Lyanna and myself. Reed, ever the loyal one, is on board of the plan but regardless, I hit them both with a secrecy charm. No need to take any chance.

The two muggle were planning to travel by land all the way to North. Apparently, Ned had to visit Riverland to gather his wife and yet unnamed son. Of course, the poor woman would think of herself as Lady Stark until they arrive Winterfell, but that should just make things funny.

The first step of our journey saw us arrive at Starfell. It seemed Ned and Ashara Dayne had been in love but given Ned's impromptu marriage, Ashara was more then heart-broken. Everyone knew Ashara was on the verge of death and there was nothing to be done.

Mother, who it apparently hated the Tullys, turned towards me and asked, "Son – I hate to ask you this, by is there anything you can do?"

Playing the role of infant, I wrapped my hands around her head and placed images of what I could do inside her mind. Basically it amounted to keeping Ashara alive until Catelyn Tully suffer an accident. Mother gave a laugh unlike that expected from a noble lady and said, "That will do my son, that will do – let's work your magic."

Quietly, I entered both Ned's and Ashara's mind and gave her a dream. It was pretty much me pretending to be those Old Gods and saying, "Ashara – we know you love Ned. Ned loves you. He is bound by his duty to his Tully wife who we do not like. Soon, that duty will be no more. If you wait some more, the two of you will be together for all eternity." Muggle minds are so easy – if it were a wizard, things would have been difficult (only a little bit, after all I am Lord Voldemort).

The next day, Ashara was up and running. She promised Ned that she would always wait for him and Ned gave her a smile that said, "I am yours but I do not know how that can come true.." Filthy sentiment they call love. As promised to Ashara, I did a few things to Ned – the next woman he fucked would suffer the most stupid, deadly accident during her breakfast when Ned is not there. Just to be sure, I added a geese so that he would fuck only Catelyn Tully next. Ashara would get her dream soon enough.

Myself and mother took a boat towards North. We would sail through stony shores and then trek towards Winterfell. A few more compulsions were needed on both Ned and Reed for them to agree to this rather risk plan. The other two would travel via. land so as to collect Tully, the kid (Ned and Catelyn's son) and also, return the remains of the other Northern lords that came to the Tower. The last one was actually my compulsion. Simple minded fool was planning to return only the horse of one of his bannermen. Dumb ass.

 **Month 12, 282 AC – 2 month later, Riverrun (Neutral POV – just for fun of it)**

Ned Stark and Howland Reed had arrived in Tully's castle without much fanfare. The welcoming party was large enough. Hoster Tully knew Stark wasn't particularly happy with how he was forced to marry without any consideration. So, giving a large feast was his idea of "hugs and kisses".

Given Voldemort's spell, Ned fucked the living shit out of Catelyn Tully. Apparently the whole castle heard of it and thought that Stark was busy making another wolf to fill his depleted wolf pack. However, the very next morning when Catelyn was breaking her fast along side her mother and sister, she ended up swallowing her fork by accident – was something like that even possible? The smallfolk tell how the maesters attempted to pull the fork out but instead, it first tore her throat, then it tore her belly.

Even an indirect hex by Voldemort has the most grisly result. The Tully's were devastated, Ned acted suitably devastated even if, internally he was howling with joy. It meant the poor, repressed, honorable man would be able to marry the woman he loved sooner then he thought. Reed the ever loyal bannerman, spread rumors of how the old gods punished the Tully's for badgering an old, Northern House into marriage. It must have worked because within days of future, Ned was politely asked to leave along with his infant son, now named Robb in honor of the oaf.

 **Month 12, 282 AC, Same time Winterfell (Voldemort POV)**

We arrived at Crofters village, which was thankfully empty given the onset of winter. Benjen came within days of our arrival to escort us, myself and mother to Winterfell. He had a long heart-to-heart talk with Lyanna, now known as Miriam. Her identity had been magically changed thanks to me – basically no one would ever associate Miriam with Lyanna unless I were to let them. Something akin to fidelius.

Apparently, Benjen had let the people of Winterfell know about what we had cooked. Brandon had married a previously unknown house of Slytherin and due to the situation with Iron throne, his widow and his heir were in hiding. But, with Robert's accession to the throne, Miriam was free to take position of Lady Stark and myself as Lord Stark with Ned as my regent.

Winterfell was a great castle – nothing in the league of Hogwarts. No castle in this world – nothing made by filthy muggles would ever compare to Hogwarts, but Winterfell was still great. However, I could feel the magic in here. It was tiny – suppressed even. Almost as if someone had dropped of a great big stone right into the river of magic. That would not do – I was going to change that. Add some wards even. But first, I had to grow up. Retaining full faculties while being an infant was damn difficult.

 **Month 1, 283 AC (Winterfell)**

My mother, Lyanna was a true wolf. She had fangs and wasn't particularly afraid to use it. The moment she arrived, she quickly took over as the Lady of Winterfell – unlike traditional lady of the castle, she was more like owner of the castle.

The first thing she did was move into the Master suite – the only reserved for the Lord of Castle. The Maester tried to object, but much to her brothers delight, she just said, "Watch your tone old man – you serve us. Your job is simply provide advise nothing more. If we don't like your advice, you will keep your mouth shut or I might just have you replaced!"

The poor maester replies, "My Lady – you can't do that. Only the citadel can do that. It is just not done."

Quick as a snake, she slapped the impudent old fool and seethed, "You think you can tell me what to do and not to do in my own god-damn castle? Perhaps a night or two in the dungeons will teach you a lesson, eh? Benjen – throw this fool into the lowest, filthiest dungeon there is."

With a shit eating grin, Benjen drags the Maester off towards the dungeon. A quick look into her eyes shows plenty of amusement and also, there is satisfaction for justice long served. Curiosity piqued, I look a bit deeper and see the reason. The maester was the one to suggest grandfather for all the poor choices and most importantly, mother's betrothal to that oaf. In a way, mother was coming along as this world's version of Bellatrix except the fucking part. The whole "incest" thing had hurt purebloods back in the magical world and I wasn't going to repeat that here.

 **Month 2, 283 AC (Winterfell)**

Ned, the new regent lord of Winterfell (in his head – we all knew Lya, or Miriam wasn't going to let him do anything), arrived with son. Immediately after the usual greetings, he started asking about the Maester. Mother responded, "Why do you need the old man now brother? You have just arrived?"

Somewhat annoyed, he replied, "Well Miriam, Didn't I tell you Catelyn Tully is dead? It means I have to send raven to Starfell for Ashara. The moment this whole mourning thing is over, I am going to her."

Benjen happily responds, "My brother! I can do the raven for you. The maester is indisposed and we have already written to the citadel for a new one. But, no need to worry – we will write a raven to Starfell now."

When he tries to run and get the stack of parchment, Ned grabs him and, "Wait wait – what is this about the Maester being indisposed? Also, what do you mean you can do the raven?

Lya replies with abundant mirth, "Well, the maester ran afoul of a she-wolf. Apparently, he tried to separate the she-wolf from her pack and for that, he paid the wolf. And, every noble child is taught how to work the raven here in North. Please tell me Arryn taught you that."

Irritated, Ned says, "No – Only the Maester are supposed to handle raven. That is what I was taught."

"Oh – and what were you taught about the Northern way? What does honor mean to us?" mother asked in a scathing voice.

Ned replied, "Not much to be honest. Northern way is to always do the honorable thing. Like follow your oath, do your duty. That is what honor means to us Stark."

Before mother can say anything, Benjen drops the stack of parchment he is carrying and says, "Shh hell – Arryn did a number on you Ned. The Stark way has always been that of Wolf. A wolf is a hunter, a predator of the first degree. There is no honor when it comes to hunting. You hunt to provide for your family, to keep your family safe. That is the Stark way. Nothing more."

Mother is quick to jump in, "Didn't father teach anything to you about us Starks?"

Ned quietly says, "No. Nothing. I know nothing about Stark. I am a Stark in name only."

Mother hugs him and tells him, "It is not your fault Ned. The fault lies in Jon Arryn, father and that maester of ours. We will teach you the Northern way. I am going to make sure Arryn suffers for it – do not worry."

Disgusting – that's what this display of mutual affection was. But, mother's word on making sure Arryn suffer did put off some of that disgust. At least my muggle mother wasn't completely useless.

I can tell Ned wants to speak on behalf of Arryn but he knows Arryn failed to educated him properly. Benjen drops a think tome that lacks any name. "This is the history of Starks before Torrhen bent his knee. This is our way – after that we all started to hide our true way, but now that the targs are truly gone, it is time for our way to return again."

Ned slowly points towards me, "Isn't he of the Targ's seed?"

Lya laughs and says, "No – why do you think he looks almost a year and half old or even two years instead of only a year? I became pregnant right before running off with the dragon. I had a dream where a bunch of trees said how a wolf with snake's heart would make the North free again, and next thing I know, I have my sweet Voldemort here."

Ned looks around and says, "Don't tell anyone but, I had the a similar dream. Ashara also had a similar dream. Trees said we had to be patient and that they would remove the Tullys"

Benjen claps him over the shoulders and crows, "Brother – gods are smiling again. It is time for North to rise. Your so called best friend is on the throne, we can do pretty much what we want and he won't even notice. With how much that oaf drinks and whores, he will be dead before you know it."

Ned gives him a hard look but can't deny it. "At least don't insult my friend"

"hah – you didn't deny Robert being an oaf and drunk and whore-monger." - laughed mother.

With that, they all stood up. However, it left me with a conundrum – the dream for Ned and Ashara was created by myself. But, the one for mother was real. So, the old gods are actually real – I might have to tread carefully. Three things would have to be done:

Make sure my occlumency is better then ever – kind of tough when there is no one to test it against.

A hideout with fidelius.

Something to threaten them with. Perhaps conjure a shitload of chemical weapons muggles are so fond of and kill all weirwood trees? A few gateways for the demon realm?

No tree huger is going to threaten me or my mother. Great I am starting to think about one of those environmentalist muggles. I had a lot of fun using cutting curses against muggles chained to trees. And, why do I love my mother? It is irritating. Next thing I know I might fall in love with a woman and have a bunch of kids. Unacceptable. Fucking is fine. It is great. It is beyond pleasurable. But, loving a woman is just not worth it. Kids are even worse.

 **Month 6, 283 AC (Winterfell)**

Mother has solid control over Winterfell. Not sure about the other Lords – we would have to call a Lord's gathering and it was costly; we were planning to wait until I could speak properly.

 **Month 7, 283 AC (Winterfell)**

I was now about 2 years old and could walk around slowly. My speech was coming along fine – still had trouble with some words but good. My occlumency was now even better then it was back on Earth. If it wasn't for this infant body, I would be casting battle spell left and right. At least compulsions and now, the imperious was much easier to cast.

 **Month 8, 283 AC (Winterfell)**

Not much to say. Mother estimates I will be ready for presentation amongst Lords within next 6-8 month. On a more interesting note, we received a letter from Hoster Tully decrying me as the Lord of North. Apparently, the old fish wants his grandson as the future northern lord. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't going to happen. Firstly, both Ned and Benjen were firmly on my mother's side. Secondly, I was making sure Robb would be my fanatical supporter. The only thing that old fish could do was seethe.

Month 10, 283 AC (Winterfell)

Mother had started my reading/writing lessons. With my legs much stronger and now, capable of exploration, I had found my way into the crypts. I had been told repeatedly that Starks had magic in their blood due to us being the off-springs of First Men. The crypt was definite proof of that – the whole place was oozing with magic. This would be the ideal location to place wardstones, after all, my home would have to be well protected.

 **Month 6, 284 AC (Winterfell)**

At 3 year old, I was deemed ready for a meet-and-greet with the Northern lords. So, now we had every lord coming down here to see what the little Lord Stark looked like. As usual, these medieval buffoons were taking their time to trickle in. Mother expected one more month for them all to arrive. Until then, it was all about waiting.

 **Month 7, 284 AC (Winterfell)**

Just about all the lords of North have assembled here at Winterfell. Everyone were in a frenzy and a suppressed excitement. Mother had done an excellent job of keeping then all under control. Any lord who dared to question my Slytherin heritage were quickly brought down with scathing comments. The sigil of slytherin, a wicked looking cobra embedded upon a dark shield was shown as the proof of my legitimacy.

Getting all those morons convinced that I was strong enough wasn't easy. But again, the idea of a 3 year old trying to talk with 40 year old Lords isn't exactly normal either. Things started working out when Umber decided call me a snot-nosed little brat. At that point, instead of giving up, I forced my body to move and knifed him straight into the jugular. Everyone knew pulling the knife out wrong might led him to bleed like a pig.

Lyanna then spoke in the coldest voice I have ever heard, "I trust my lords that you are all satisfied this is the son of Brandon Stark, worthy of the name Stark from tales of old?"

All the Lords looked at each other, the phrasing, tales of old had them worried, excited and concerned. Starks of the old weren't nice, caring or kind – they had their morbid sense of honor wrapped in a delicate flavor of cruelty. They only thing they ever cared about was North and Winterfell. Anyone who fucked with either would be butchered. Lyanna or Miriam as they knew her as, was giving them a warning of what might happen.

Then, in a show of mercy, mother approached Umber with some rags, kept them right on the base of where I had buried the knife. With a quick motion, she pulled out the sharp thin knife without letting a drop spill. Umber had a relived, grateful look on his face. The fear in his eyes would be something I would forever cherish.

 **Month 8, 284 AC (Winterfell)**

All the Lords had left, oaths of loyalty firmly renewed and our not so veiled warning firmly embedded in their psyche. Ned had embarked towards White Harbor. Manderly had finally let us know that 3 war galleys/trade ships commissioned almost a year ago was finally ready with full crew.

Ned would be taking those ships towards Starfell to get Ashara Dayne now that the customary 1 year mourning period was over. However, during his return, as per mother's suggestion, the newly wed couple would make a number of pit stops in the free cities to have fun and also buy some "exotic" supplies. The whole voyage would take upwards of 6 months.

 **Month 2, 285 AC (Winterfell)**

I am now 4 years old and can now actually run around Winterfell. Mother has assigned me a what these muggles call a sworn sword. Having a backup never really hurts even if the idea of Lord Voldemort needing a body guard is laughable at best. But, this does reminds me of one thing – I will have to perform all my rituals again. Originally, my body was for all point and purpose indestructible. I could stand in the epicenter of a nuclear explosion and come out fine, but now a simple dagger might kill me. In this strange world, I do not have access to many ingredient that are needed. But, if I were to do those rituals while still a child, there wouldn't be any negative side-effects – namely, virtually zero sex drive, infertility, anger management issue and so forth.

Ever since I got my sworn shield, Jason Snow, I had been working on changing his perspective to reflect mine and that of a death eater. Back in earth, one of my inner circle developed what we started calling "Generic Death Eater Mind" - basically it was a spell which would drop a bunch of memory designed for a perfectly loyal death eater. I created and used a variant of that spell, thus making Jason my newest Death Eater of this world.

During my sojourns in the library, I discovered the White Walkers – ice inferies. Everyone were telling me they were long gone but my instincts told me different. I did not become the greatest dark lord by ignoring my instinct. The books seem to indicate they could be harmed only by fire or obsidian. Fire I knew, after all inferi has always been my specialty. The look on your enemies face when their own loved ones eat them alive is simply divine. The obsidian was unknown to me and from Nan's story, Dragonstone was the only place you could get obsidian.

I would rather have the weapon handy near me then travel all the way to Dragonstone ruled by a surly jackass of a man called Stannis. My solution? Cause a volcano nearby – plenty of obsidian for us.

Cause a volcano you say? Oh yes. It was my favorite method of killing muggles. A few simple spells and in about a year, there would be volcano exactly like I specified. However this time, I wasn't planning to kill anyone. Instead, I would cause a small mini-volcano erupt near Winterfell, right at White Knife river. That way, I was going to have a steady supply of warm water which could be used for the much larger glass gardens I had in mind.

So, with the volcano in mind, myself and Jason we decided to take a joy ride towards the nearest point of Kings road to Winterfell. Then I performed the spells using a makeshift wand made out of weirwood trees. Within about the next six months, the volcano would erupt with a minor splash – no huge earthquake, no dust cloud, nothing particularly exciting.

Truthfully, I meant to cause the volcano right at Castle Cerwyn, given that it was just a day's ride from Winterfell and half a day from White Knife, it would be a perfect location. But, somehow I ended up near the upper end up the river, just at the edge of Wolfswood. It seemed something was truly preventing me from killing Northerners – wiping out the Cerwyns would have been glorious. Potential threat removal and all that. Regardless, the volcanic dust will force them to move anyway letting me do an easy takeover.

 **Month 3, 284 AC (Winterfell)**

Ned and his new wife, Ashara have finally arrived. The two look particularly happy. On top of it all, Ashara appears to be a few months pregnant. The cargo they bring is even more exciting. As per Lyanna's orders, Ned had bought 100 unsullied. Not just that, they had an excellent supply of various exotic plants and their seeds. A cursory look revealed to me some of those could be used as potion supply. Rituals, here I come.

 **Month 8, 284 AC (Winterfell)**

We all fell a slight tremor go through the walls. Everyone thought it was one of the rare earthquakes but only I knew the difference. It was only two days later that we received news regarding the volcano. As per my behest, mother organized a search party to find what happened.

All of us, except Ashara, who was now at the late stage of her pregnancy raced towards the site of the volcano. Once there, we Starks were silent while everyone started talking rapidly about death and destruction.

Eventually, mother screamed, "Quiet you fools! This volcano is neither death nor destruction. It could have erupted right into Winterfell and cooked us all alive, but it chose to erupt here of all things. Far away any humans. It is too small to cause us damage. Instead of getting afraid, we all should start thinking how we can use this. Start thinking now or I might just start flogging you !"

Did I tell you that mother's sadistic streak has grown a mile wide? She has taken to flogging anyone who disobeys her. Not just that, she has taken the Stark motto of "He who passes judgment should wield the sword" to heart. She chops people's head with a grace unseen since last few generation. Her justice system has taken a whole different turn – rapists get flogged anywhere between 50 or until her hands get tired after which, _chop their head_.

When no one points out anything useful, she turns to me and says, "Well Son, you must have something. Speak up?"

Then I start my talk. "The volcano – if you can call it that, isn't particularly massive. However, it is useful, it is rather tame. As you all know, the glass garden of Winterfell gives us just about enough food to live by – not enough to eat by our heart's content, nor to sell. This volcano however can be a blessing from the old gods. We are going to dig a canal from White Knife, all the way to this volcano and use it to make our very own hot spring. After that, we can simply start building a new, larger glass garden. A smaller version of Winterfell dedicated solely to produce food won't be remiss – after all, more food is always good."

The foolish muggles are pretty happy with my idea. They actually start chanting my name. "Voldemort, Voldemort" they shout. To my utmost shame, it is in love and admiration instead of hate and anger. Seems the ritual might have changed something about me – it seems to have reduced my cruelty by a bit and added a degree of attachment to mother and worse, to North. At least I am certain people will die during the canal construction.

 **Month 1, 285 AC (Winterfell)**

It has been almost 4 month since my rousing talk about starting glass garden in the volcanic site. The muggles have already started digging a canal from the river. They truly have smaller brain then us wizards. If it weren't for mother's and my own intervention, they would have started digging without plotting the best possible path or anything similar.

The mapping didn't take too long. It was mostly me drawing the map and mother doing the cherry picking. As much as I wanted to see muggles die in this beautiful project of mine, North didn't have enough muggles for me to kill for sport. So, I used magic to soften the brittle Northern soil. I am guessing that with my magical help and mother's not so gentle pushing, these muggle filth will complete the canal within a years time.

Right then Ashara called our family meeting. She was the Stark Family accountant so to speak – being dornish, she knew more about money then anyone else. And, according to her our coffers weren't doing particularly good. Mother questioned, "I thought with my new tax system our income has increased? Is that not so?"

Ashara replied, "True, our income has increased but at this moment, it is simply not enough. The whole canal project is eating gold. Also, our new war galleys have been costing us plenty. We are docking them in White Harbor and so, we have to pay Manderlys for it."

Ned opened with, "Nothing to be done about the canal – it will be finished soon enough anyway. As for the expense on war galleys, why not give them to Manderleys on lease for say patrolling the sea? And in return, they won't charge us for use of harbor."

Benjen jumped in, "I have a better idea. Instead of giving them to the Manderlys, lets set them up as a somewhat independent mercenary outfit. For example, the trade fleet of Bravos and Vale need protection against pirates right? So, our war galleys will provide it to them in return for coin. We might even bring the Manderlys in, join both our ships together to make a single fleet. Make coin during peace time and when war comes, the fleet will see to Northern interest."

Mother speaks, "And one of us have to be in charge – I am not going to let someone outside of our family take control of what could be the first Northern fleet in how many hundred year. Ben? You like ships right?"

"I do my sweet sister – a bit of sea would be good for me I think." intoned Benjen.

After that, seeing Ashara's inquisitive face, mother asks again, "Ashara – even with this our immediate problem won't be solved will it?"

Ashara shakes her head, "If we were to wait around a year and let the new taxes flow in, we might work something out. But right now, it will be tough."

They all grumble and so, I speak, "There might be a way – you all know I have been exploring Winterfell a lot right?"

"Yes – what about it?" asked Ned.

"Well I have found a number of interesting things. There are old silver jeweleries hidden in some of the dungeons. I have also seen a few artistic pieces in there. None of them have any marking, so I am thinking perhaps we can sell them over at the free cities?"

Of course those things aren't completely true – I did find a few artistic pieces but they were completely broken. A few reparos saw them to mint condition. The silver however was my own creation – I transmuted old, rusty steel to silver. Pillaging Nicolas Flamel's somewhat immortal mind taught me many many things.

Mother asked, "When you said a few, how few did you mean?"

I smiled and grinned - "A few like in a few hundred thousand gold dragons. I think some of the ancient Starks might have hidden treasure just for times like these. We just need to find them."

Ashara grinned and said, "Not we – you, you need to find them. If we adults were to start rummaging around Winterfell, then people might get a clue of what is going on but you running around is nothing new. Do not let anyone know about this, OK nephew?"

"Of course Auntie – may be I will take Robb and little Arya someday but no-one else."

Mother grins and says, "Atta boy"

Again, something truly went wrong with that ritual – I should have started tossing crucios almost an hour ago. Instead, I am here happily eating praises from my aunt and mom.


	2. Voldemort's North

_AN: Voldemort will still be a cruel SOB but not a lunatic. Cersei will be neutralized perhaps not in the way some of you will like it but she is too damn hot for me to portray as a complete, irrational bitch. Let's just assume she isn't all FUBAR this early in the game and go from there.. See the AN at the end of chapter for more details._

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 **Table of Contents**

Month 5, 285 AC (Winterfell) 1

Month 6, 285 AC (Winterfell) 1

Month 8, 285 AC (Volcano Town, 2 hour ride from Winterfell) 2

Month 1, 286 AC (Winterfell) 2

Month 2, 286 AC (Winterfell) 3

Month 6, 286 AC (Neutral POV) 3

Month 1, 287 AC (Winterfell) Voldemort's POV 6

Winterfell, Voldemort POV 9

Winterfell, Queen Cersei's POV 10

Author's Note 12

 **Month 5, 285 AC (Winterfell)**

Within a month of my revelation regarding the treasure, one of the war galleys came up through the White Knife as close to Winterfell as possible. Benjen moved a decent sized portion of the silver and artistry to the ship and was off to the free cities. He proved himself to be an excellent merchant. In a few months, he had sold all the treasure and returned home. He didn't return alone. With him came a boat load of slaves – who would be set free upon entry to North. Of course, he bought only but the most skilled slaves as in blacksmiths, shipwrights, builders, masons and so on. Damn muggles would have a much better life here at North then they would otherwise.

Times like these, I can't help it but feel rather angry towards the muggleborns – that granger bint comes to mind. They have issues with wizards keeping house elves as slaves when their own ancestor traded each other as nothing but hardware? I do miss house elves. Perhaps I need to find a spell to convert muggles into house elves. Excellent servants, a bit simple minded but otherwise perfect.

 **Month 6, 285 AC (Winterfell)**

The newly liberated slaves brought by Benjen are all housed in the area where the volcano had erupted. It was warm in there, other workers were constantly around to keep the former slaves company and the unsullied were keeping things under control.

The canal was almost completed. To the frustration of many nobles and quiet a few senior servants, I had ordered boat load of sand to be transported from beach around the bite towards my Volcano Town. The glass garden would need plenty of glass and why would I pay for glass to the muggle filth in Myr when I could simply have the muggle here do the work?

The volcano would provide heat to melt sand into glass, muggles would have to figure out how to make glass pane out of it. It would be fun to watch them stumble. All of them shrieking in pain, groaning in frustration. Glorious. And when it all fails, I would magically tell them what they were doing wrong. All for the glory of Lord Voldemort.

 **Month 8, 285 AC (Volcano Town, 2 hour ride from Winterfell)**

The canal work has been completed. Initially, I wanted to let the muggles fumble around on how to use the volcanic heat to warm the water, but after seeing them stumble for a while, I simply transfigured the whole setup for them. Water would traverse around the volcano and warm up enough to be like a hot water spring. A second setup was created where volcanic heat would be harvested to melt sand, metal or anything that needs to be melted – a furnace basically.

Unfortunately, I had to make the muggles believe it was their work since revealing magic was a no no. It did leave a side-effect of them thinking I had helped them with my words of encouragement. They were praising me again! Regardless, soon after that, I was going to have plenty of glass and then a glass garden to produce as much fruits and vegetable. Hidden among them would be my very own greenhouse to produce all the magical herbs and fun stuff I could think of.

 **Month 1, 286 AC (Winterfell)**

It has been a whole year since that fateful accounting meeting with all our family. By now, things have changed. Winterfell, its surrounding area, especially Volcano Town has changed a lot. There is a constant stream of Nobles arriving to see the volcano of North, both from North and also from the South. All I want to do is crucio all these filthy muggles but somehow, my hands stays. It is as if my magic doesn't want to crucio these muggles. Then I discovered something interesting and alarming at the same time – despite me wanting to crucio all of the filthy muggles, I seemed to "not" crucio only the northerner muggles. I happily crucioed a southern muggle visiting the volcano.

Does it mean my magic itself is stopping me from hurting the Northerners? Or is something here in the North? Some of the old pure-blood families had enchantments to stop their family killing each other without due cause – has that happened to me? But, only the Starks are my family (if you can call them that), not the whole of North! The ritual must have gone faulty. Need to fix it.

However, the constant influx of southerner nobles gives me an excellent idea on how to increase population of the North – open whorehouse and use the whores as broodmares. Basically, only the best muggles, as in muggles that have decent brain or physical features would be able to visit the whorehouses. And, there would be no moontea. Rather smart of me. Since we didn't have too many whores here in North, I had to dispatch Uncle Benjen to the free cities, namely Lys to bring some new whores. Bah, what do I care about slavery? Those whores will have a much better life here in North anyway. My muggles (meaning the muggles I exterminated in Earth) had taught me valuable lessons on fertility, prenatal and post-natal care. So, all my whores would receive the best care possible. Have children, then no need to whore-out for next two year. The child gets it's mother's last name. Proper education and weapon training. After all, they were going to be my future death eaters. Benjen was more then happy to ferry those whores. The idea of having easy access to new, exotic women probably excited him.

 **Month 2, 286 AC (Winterfell)**

I have finally figured out a way to ward Winterfell. The crypts have proven themselves to be the center point of the castle and as such, the ideal place to bury the wardstones. It turns out, this world had plenty of ley lines but they flowed much deeper and for some reason, harder to locate. Once located, they were like rapids of the mountains – fast, noisy and numerous. It would be almost 5 more years for the wards to be fully formed around the whole of Winterfell. As of now, the wards were a mix of intent ward, confounding wards and fear ward. The intent ward would judge someones motive and if proven to be harmful, the confounding and fear ward would do what their names imply. Once the wards are fully formed, I will have wards to directly repeal (read kill) any invading army, locate a specific target within the walls or if need be, spy on the residents.

Now that the security of my castle was taken care of, my mind turned towards, perhaps not particularly important but rather itchingly pressing subject. Aesthetics of Winterfell. The whole god-damn place looked like a filthy, medieval hovel. Granted it seemed to be a well built hovel, but still a hovel. As much as I liked to strike fear into enemies heart via a forlorn looking castle, Winterfell looked too filthy for my taste. So, I started to hatch my plans to make the damn place look less like a hovel and more like a castle fitting a dark lord. Inner structure of the castle would be taken care by the wards once they were fully formed – my wards were designed to reinforce and repair structural damage. The appearance however was a whole different issue.

That was when I had a flash of inspiration. Why not overlay the whole damn place with obsidian? That way, those white walkers would find it almost impossible to scale the walls or even walk in my home. Obsidian was supposed to be their anathema. All I had to do was make sure there was some white obsidian instead of only regular dark colored obsidian. Magic should be able to do that. And there were plenty of liberated slaves that could do the stone work. Winterfell would be the greatest stronghold all around one way or another.

 **Month 6, 286 AC (Neutral POV)**

North had undergone a lot of change. Influx of skilled slaves (freed upon touching Northern soil) had changed the available work force. House Stark in conjunction with the Manderlys had already raised a decent naval force. A navy which ostentatiously provided protection against pirates for Northern trade-ships and also, to those from Vale. What the traders from Vale didn't know was that Benjen had bribed a few pirates to target ships from Vale. And, northern navy was more then happy to provide protection for a price. Protection racket was making plenty of money for the navy.

The volcano near Winterfell was another oddity – what the southerns thought would be the doom of North similar to the doom of Valyria, the volcano was quickly becoming a blessing for the North. Lord Voldemort's idea to build a number of massive glass house had seen an increase in food production for Winterfell. Use of volcanic heat to run the furnaces meant better steel, better weapon. Soon enough, all soldiers of Winterfell would have steel weapons and armor. Rumors were abound how the Stark's intended to supply cheap steel to all their Northern. There were plenty of rumors abound about the Starks and most of them good.

Perhaps the most well known story was how a three year old Lord Voldemort knifed Bigjon Umber in the jugular. The infamy Voldemort's mother, Lady Stark-Slytherin, especially how she punished criminal was whispered in passing.

It was no surprise that the stories of North trickled down South. Each southern lord had a different reaction.

Hoster Tully, "Barbarians the whole lot of them. Bastard is what that Voldemort boy is. And Miriam Stark is nothing but a whore."

Tywin Lannister was concerned about the North, "North might be on rise – I need to know what is going on. Tyrion – you are going to Winterfell. Broker a marriage contract between our houses. Do something. Or I will have you killed."

Mace Tyrell the oaf, questioned his mother, the queen of thorns, "Mother what do you have to say to these rumors?" Olena replied, "Too early to say anything. Wait and see."

Doran Martell of the Dorne was unconcerned, "Doesn't matter what the Northerners do or don't do. We are of Dorne – all those kingdom's do not matter."

The reaction in King's Landing on the other hand was most spectacular. King Robert attended the small council meeting for the first time since his coronation. His queen was also in attendance.

"Why the fuck did you call me here Jon? I have better things to do that sit here and listen to you all." barked the stag.

Before Jon Arryn could reply, his wife Cersei snidely responded, "It is about the North and your dear friend Ned Stark. Wouldn't you be interested in the well being of your dog?"

"Watch it woman or I will have you flogged!" spoke the king. Jaime Lannister, the kingsguard assigned to protect the queen took deep breathe as if to stop himself from killing another king. No one could fault him, after all no brother could be faulted for being angry on behalf of his sister. But again, if they knew exactly what kind of brother-sister relationship those two golden hair lions had, things would be much different.

Jon Arryn then spoke, "Not to worry your grace, there is nothing wrong with the North or Ned. It is simply about the ongoing events in North."

"Events?" asked the fat stag.

"Aye. As you may have heard, there had been a volcano near Winterfell almost a year ago. It was a very small one and turns out, the northerners have used to it great effect."

"What can a volcano be used for? The bards were singing about Doom of North and now you are saying the norhterners are using the volcano?" asked Cersei.

"Yes, my queen. The Northerners consider it a gift from gods. It seems they have built massive glass gardens around the volcano and are now growing large quantities of food. Not only that, rumor has it that good quality steel flows from the fires of that volcano." replied the Master of Whispers, a eunuch names Varys.

"Quiet a fortuitous turn of events for the North I should say" coughed Pycelle.

"Well then, North is doing good, my friend is all right. So, what is the issue that you are all so eager to bring me here?" growled Robert.

Arryn then replied, "If that was only the case, things would have been of no concern, however it seems North has started a navy. Almost 50 war galleys."

"Every kingdom has a right to defend itself – did you not tell me how the pirates have been mostly destroyed in the Shivering Seas?" asked Robert.

"Aha yes, the northern warships took care of most of the pirates." spoke Arryn.

"Then why do you have a problem with Ned's navy Jon?" asked Robert.

Baelish jumped in with, "It is not that your grace, Northern Navy demands a price for providing protection for ships of Vale. Most dishonorable of them."

Arryn then speaks, "That is an issue a number of Lords from Vale have been bringing up nowadays."

Just when Robert was going to scream, Cersei spoke, "North has to pay for the upkeep of it's navy does it not? Their duty is to protect their own shores and vessel – if you want them to protect your vessels, you need to pay for it. Simple business."

Robert then guffaws, "Spoken like Tywin's daughter. It is exactly like what the queen said. Baelish you want to be safe from pirates, make your own navy or pay the northerners to save your ass. Which is cheaper?"

"Paying the northerner is much cheaper – that is true. But shouldn't it be their duty to the realm to protect everyone?" asked Baelish.

"What about your duty to protect yourself you little worm?" and with that, Robert backhanded Baelish. "Don't question me about duty and honor when you have none."

The whole council goes silent. Baelish, who hasn't gotten in a physical scuffle since being ass-kicked by Brandon Stark, looks around while laying on the ground. His face is bloody and a few tooth seems to have knocked off. He is giving King Robert a look that promises vengeance.

"Any other issues you have with the Northerners?" growls Robert.

Hesitantly, Jon Arryn replies, "It seems Benjen Stark has been buying slaves from the free cities. The moment they arrive in the North, he frees them. Not only that, it is said, they have bought more then a thousand pleasure slaves and whores."

"Well, Ned never liked slavery and it seems this is his way saving a few slaves. Good for him" smiles Robert. As he turns around to leave, he stops and questions, "Wait wait – pleasure slaves? Whores?"

"Ah yes – it seems Benjen Stark has started a few whorehouses. Only for the lords or their best soldiers. The whores can go free after a few years or something – the details aren't terribly clear." replies Varys.

"Hot damn – we are going North. Selmy, go and get things started for me to head North. I want to see the volcano and fuck a few pleasure slaves" exclaimed a very jovial Robert.

The council members were finally relieved to hear the happy tone – there won't be any screaming or god forbid beat down like Baelish suffered. All in all, South's reaction to the happenings of North was relatively calm. However, Robert's impromptu journey to Winterfell, on the other hand would have a far reaching impact on the seven kingdoms.

 **Month 1, 287 AC (Winterfell) Voldemort's POV**

It had been six month since the raven announcing Robert's impending visit to Winterfell. It seemed the oaf wanted to see the volcano and also, fuck some of the whores. Mother was rather peeved upon hearing the news of Robert's visit. Given that he had specifically written how he wanted to "fuck some of the lyseni whores", she spent plenty of time harassing Ned about the kind of man he wanted to sell his sister to. Poor bastard had no idea how to counter her. I had no sympathy for that naive fool – even the most arrogant, inbred pure-blood would not marry off his blood to such filth. Not just that, no pure-blood wizard would ever rape a woman – kill yes, maim oh yes, torture very much so. But not rape. Here, in this medieval world rape was a commonly accepted fact. Whoring was standard. Muggle filth.

Jason Snow, my sworn shield became the first death eater. By now, I had 10 death eater. Each of them subjected to my death eater spell. Additional spells and potion were added to make them faster, more skilled and even more deadly then any swordsman this world could throw. All the abilities I had ripped from muggle special forces soldiers and spies were added to them. As such, my small protective detail was beyond deadly. Truth be told, with the King coming here, they would be needed sooner then later if I were to keep my magical abilities hidden.

The volcano had done wonders for Winterfell and by extension, me. Our supply of steel was incredible. The blacksmiths were working around the clock and latest estimate kept a year until all the soldiers of Winterfell, almost 2,000 of them armored in top quality steel armor. The glass garden had me happy – good food does wonder for a dark lord's temper.

And then, King Robert arrived in Winterfell. We were all expected to drop to our knees for the king. Oh no – the dark lord bends knee to no man, especially not to this fat, drunk excuse of a pig. As the pig disembarked from his horse, Ned Stark, acting regent on behalf of Lord Voldemort dropped on his knees and spoke, "Winterfell is yours, your grace."

Upon that statement, I bristled. Mother twitched her eyes. Uncle Benjen clenched his sword. My death eaters, all of whom were dressed in their trademark dark robes and skull mask, stood still without twitching a muscle. However, even a passerby could feel a chill around them. They all knew Winterfell was mine and mine alone. As an added show of force, I sent a silent command to the wards and had thunder crackled. The idea was to put fear of god into the southerners and so, the wards simulated thunder and dropped a lightning bolt right on Robert's horse, frying the animal instantly. The result? Smell of burning flesh permeated the air while both Ned and Robert landed on their ass. Everyone jumped as if they were struck by lightning themselves.

Just to make a statement, I spoke, "You grace, it seems the old gods do not agree with my uncle's statement. Winterfell belongs to the Starks and Starks alone. It is not my uncles to give away to a southern king."

Barristan the bold quickly shouted, "You are speaking to the king boy, show some respect."

"I am showing the proper amount of respect old man. It is the old god's that chose to shove a lightning bolt up the king's ass, not me."

"And who would you be boy?" asked the fat king.

"I am Brandon Stark, also known as Lord Voldemort, heir of North. Blood of winter kings."

Before the king could answer, Jaime Lannister laughed and drew his sword. "You might want to watch your tone boy or loose your head."

At that, one of my death eaters quickly jumped in front the kingslayer and knocked his sword off. As the other kingsguard tried to drop the death eater, he easily subdued them without causing any long term harm. Seeing a lone man, albeit a rather scary one destroy seven kingsguard, generally accepted as the best fighters of the country had our guest shaken. And, myself ecstatic – these death eaters didn't even have magic yet – they were only at the level of squib.

Just when the soldiers on both side were ready to jump in, Robert made the smartest decision ever, "IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING HOLD YOUR SWORD! ALL OF YOU!"

The Lannister and Baratheon soldiers quickly stopped, but the Stark soldiers looked at myself and mother to make sure whether they were to stand down or not. On mother's imperceptible node, they all went back to their original position as if nothing happened. The whole thing was rather glorious even if I was forced to put on a peeved expression.

"God damn it – I came here to escape the snakes nest called king's landing. I came here to sample those whores I heard about. Instead I land on this mess. Any fucking man that starts a fight will taste my warhammer. Any of you bastard step a toe out of line, I will have it chopped off. Ned, throw the lannister shit into the dungeons. Damn fool just had to start a fight. Keep him in the darkest dungeon you can find until I am ready to leave North. No one will visit him except for food and water. So, if that is settled, lets have some fun" bellowed the king.

No matter what you say about the oaf, one thing is for certain, he can scream like no body's business. After that, it was party time if you don't count the queen's hysteria regarding her brother's imprisonment along with the general depressed mode from the Lannister party. The hard backhand Robert gave to Cersei upon her disapproval of Jaime's dungeon vacation had everyone frowning – mother especially. I was pretty sure the king would get my mother's quality attention and not in a good way.

Ned led the King and his entourage towards the great hall for the feast while mother led the now sullen, hurt and at the same time, proud queen towards the interior of Winterfell. Probably for some quality womanly bonding. However, I had a sneaky suspicion that mother might attempt to seduce the queen – recently her sexual appetite had taken a voracious turn. I knew she had fucked a number of her personal guards, all of them completely loyal to her and only her. Not that I would ever condemn the woman, after all she did deserve some amount of fun time. As long as there were no bastard brother or sister for me, I did not care. Ned the stupid wolf would give baleful look at her once in a while but did it really matter what that naive idiot thought?

Winterfell, King Robert's POV

Our entry in Winterfell did not go quiet as planned. Oh the start did go well, everyone except the soon to be lord and his mother were on their knees. Ned, my best friend, brother in everything but blood welcomed me with "Winterfell is yours grace". However, that is when trouble started. The brat objected with how Winterfell and by extension belonged to nobody but Stark themselves. Can't really fault the boy – I would never say "Storm's end is yours, your grace" to anybody – not even Aegon the conqueror with his three dragons. Ned, the regent saying such would be a slap in face to the heir, who by all accounts was the reincarnation of Winter King's of old. Of course, the gods also made their displeasure clear by making horse jerkey out my rather prized warhorse.

If that wasn't the end of it, that Lannister shit had to escalate trouble by drawing his sword. At least I got to see that golden hair cunt get his ass kicked by the masked monstrosity rumored to serve the brat. Then, the same masked monstrosity decimated all my kingsguard. Before the rest of soldiers could mobilize, another 9 of those monsters emerged from crowd, not counting the angry, well armored Stark soldiers. If a single one of the monster could wipe out my kingsguard, 7 deadliest fighters of Westeros, or at supposed to anyway, who knows what 10 of them could do. Plus, the rest of Stark soldiers. Every single one of them covered in top quality steel armor. I could see archers in the battlement ready to draw if need be. The situation would turn into a blood bath at any moment. Trust the Lannister shit to screw up everything.

So, I screamed. Screamed like no body's business. One good thing about being known as the drunk, whore-monger king is that everyone will always sheath their sword when I call for a feast. Just to make sure the Lannister shit doesn't make anymore trouble, I had Ned throw that cunt into the deepest, coldest dungeon of Winterfell. Been wanting to do that for years, Tywin will throw a bitch fit for sure but not like I care.

Cersei was quickly accosted by the supposed widow of Brandon Stark, a rather beautiful broad. Must fuck her before I leave – her cunt probably hasn't been fucked for quiet sometime and a king's cock is just the thing to do it. Ned on the other hand, dragged me off towards the great hall for the feast. The best thing about Northern feast is the amount of ale and meat. Nothing get's your blood pumping like Northern ale.

As we walk towards the hall, I question Ned, "By the gods Ned, What are those masked monstrosities? Those warriors wiped out my kingsguard like nobody's business."

"Death eaters – that is what my nephew calls them. Don't ask me where he got them from" answered my most trusted friend.

Seeing the brat walking nearby, I holler, "Why death eater boy? Why not black monster or some equally absurd name?"

"Because they will devour any death meant for me or mine. Because they will shit death upon my enemies no matter who they are, or where they are" smirked the boy.

Somehow, I got the feeling that when he said, "enemies", the boy meant me.

"Where did you get them from? How many are there?"

"Where I got them from? Everywhere. How many there are? As many as needed" answered the smug little shit. Benjen Stark speaks, "Nephew, why not let our guests see the death eaters practice tomorrow morning? Let the southerners see what north is all about?"

"Aye – that is a mighty good idea uncle. What say you King Robert?" smiled the brat.

"I will be there – let's have the lannister shits fight your Death Eaters. The lions are getting too big for their breeches. It should be fun" The idea of Lannisters getting thrashed is always fun.

The feast was great, a lysenese whore was already there for me – Benjen Stark was quiet the host despite Ned being a stiff ass morally upright shit. On further digging, I found the whores were actually the brat's idea – sound's like something Brandon's child would do. The wild wolf liked his bitches and his pup seemed no different. The pup, did one over the father – he started a collection of beautiful bitches right in his own door steps in order so that he wouldn't have to go too far to search for bitches. Even more, the boy was smart enough to start collecting his bitches even before he could fuck. Talk about being prepared. Why did I not have such a marvelous idea? Must be that shit hole called King's Landing eating away all my brain.

 **Winterfell, Voldemort POV**

Things had gone well enough. The death eaters did well. The wards functioned as expected – demoralize outsiders, encourage loyalists. King Robert was a jolly good fellow despite being a fat pig. Pity I am not a cannibal. Perhaps I could use the fat king to buy loyalty from one of those cannibalistic wildling clans I have been hearing about? Something to think about. They would certainly get a kick out of eating a king, in the literal sense. I do need to visit the wildlings – stories of wargs, skin-changers and greenseers mean those savages might have actual magic unlike here in front of the wall. Was it because there blood is untarnished from the original first men? May be. After all, despite all the pride and bravado, the men of North have some andal blood mixed in – especially among the Lords. No matter how much Dumbledore and Potter preached about wizard-muggle equality, mixing muggle blood with wizard blood always weakens wizard blood. Simple genetics. Not saying go fuck your own cousin, just don't bred with pure muggle if you can help it. If I decide to get married, it will have to be one of those wildlings. I will have one of my death eaters plan an excursion to the true North.

Meanwhile, as the incumbent Lord Stark, I was saddled with entertaining the oaf. I could see Robb sniggering on the side while Uncle Ned was trying to maintain peace between myself and Robert. The feast was truthfully nothing to speak off – at my insistence, the cook hadn't made our more special delicacies or provide the rarer vintage wines. Those were strictly for Stark Family consumption. No need to waste good things upon these mongrels. What I did was cast a few discrete charms on the pots and pans which would trick the muggle sense to believe whatever food they were eating was the best there was in the world.

Another charm work would mean Robert would take a few of the Lysenes whore to his room but instead of fucking them, he would simply believe he fucked them and do nothing more. Those whores were a part of my breeding stock – basically, only those with blood of first men would be allowed to fuck them and have children. No way was I going to have the child of these andals here in the North.

 **Winterfell, Queen Cersei's POV**

This whole journey was simply humiliating, the reason why we came here was humiliating at the first place. Robert wanted to see the volcano of North – that at least wasn't a bad reason. Robert wanted to fuck some exotic whores. But, dragging his wife to fuck whores was just sick. Being born a woman in Westeros was a curse of untold proportion. First the selfish bastard of Father sells me off to this horrid man, second despite being queen of seven kingdoms, I am being constantly vilified and humiliated by my own husband.

And these Northern savages – the mask wearing monster beats up the kingsguard and what does the king do? Throws my dear brother into the dungeons. It was not just the insult against House Lannister that had my blood boiling, the very idea that without my beautiful twin, there would be no way to quench my carnal thirst during this accursed visit to a savage land. Curse me for being born as a woman.

Then there is the Lady Stark, matriarch of Winterfell, Lady of North. The stories tell us about how she was secretly married to Brandon Stark and hidden in crofters village to avoid the rage of Ares. Whether that is true or she was one of Brandon's whore will never be known, but one thing is for certain, the woman has a certain bearing about her that simply screams predator. The sigil of direwolf and a rather dangerous snake that she wears enhances her wild, dangerous aura. Despite my confidence as the queen of seven kingdoms and lioness of the rock, I can't help but be shaken.

As she approaches me, I see a look in her eyes that is not quiet so different from when Jaime has when he comes to bed me – does this woman mean to seduce me? Incredulous. Hearing how whores pleasure each other for the sake of perverted men is one thing, but myself, the queen going at it with this woman? No way will I do it.

She starts with, "Queen Cersei, I must say, it must be awful being married to such an oaf. I am truly sorry you had to endure such humiliation. Utmost sympathies. Anything I can do to help you?", followed by a quick, fleeting but sensual touch on my forearm.

"Lady Stark, calling the king such names is a very easy way to lose one's head – you must be careful what you say." I caution her without any vitriol, after all she is speaking the truth.

"Well Cersei, I can call you that can't I? Since it is just the two of us here?", without waiting for my approval – galls of this woman to call the queen by her given name is amazing – she continues, "You don't disagree and then, I am the Lady of North, Queen bitch of Winterfell – the last king who killed Stark suffered for it. Doubt this king will be that foolish."

"Well then Miriam, bitch of Winterfell, you are plenty bold but like I said, just be careful – no need to start a pointless war."

"Queen bitch please – after all, I rule this place. My son is simply too busy having his fun, Ned is too wrapped in his honor and Benjen is happy with his whores, so I rule my wolf pack" replied the Stark bitch.

"Very well then queen bitch, I suppose I shall be the lioness". We look at each other for a bit and burst in laughter. I chortle, "By gods Miriam – what is wrong with us? Calling each other animals? Bitch, lioness? The men-folk behave as animals at the best of time but we don't, no need to call ourselves animals, is there?"

Miriam – when did I start referring this bitch as Miriam? - gets a devilish twinkle and replies, "Perhaps this is our way of flirting my beautiful queen?"

Aha hell – somehow she did manage to seduce me. Cold-hearted queen of seven kingdom was seduced by the sadistic bitch of Winterfell. Yes, I called her the sadistic bitch – we had all heard the tales of how she punished rapist and murderers. Even Robert had cringed at some of the stories. "So, with a little bit of flirting, I am your beautiful queen?" I fire back.

Instead of smiling, she just kissed me and the rest, as they say is history. Screw Jaime. Screw Robert. Screw the seven kingdoms. I might just stay in Winterfell if it means having access to this sadistic bitch, pretty sure I will get to punish some of the criminals. Being the queen in kings landing, to be honest I didn't have much power. Either be forced to bear Robert's groping with a pained smile and get tiny bit of satisfaction from Jaime when possible or stay here and have fun with this gorgeous creature anytime. The stories did indicate she was rather free with her affection – at least that is what Varys said before all his little bird were silenced. Something to see about latter.

 **Author's Note**

So, Voldie stubs the king and king's party without any repercussion. Cersei is more or less neutralized – funny how in the original story she becomes a villain because of sex and here, she is neutralized because of sex, eh? I didn't want to kill her later on – she is too hot to be killed off and too old for good old Voldie. And well, setting up Lyanna in a romantic relationship with another man probably would not be acceptable to Voldemort given how much of a meglamaniac he is, so throw those two beautiful woman together and be done. Might not sit well with some but, two hot women going at each other is even hotter. (Throw in a perverted grin here or a evil Lord Voldemort laugh here – whichever rocks your boat)

This last portion was initially meant to be a part of the story but eventually, I had to cut it out because, as much as I hate Baelish and want to remove his character early on, having Voldemort torture him would be much more fun. This cut scene was supposed to go during Robert's meeting with the small council.

 _The council members were finally relieved to hear the happy tone – there won't be any screaming or god forbid beat down like Baelish suffered. Unfortunately, Robert seemed determined to disappoint them. He grabed Baelish's throat and growled, "Did you think I didn't see the look in your eyes? Promising vengeance? I am not a fool that keeps his enemies alive." With that, he started to drag Baelish towards the nearest window, ignoring the cries from Arryn. The queen and Jaime simply sat in their respective position smiling. Just like -that, Baelish took a dive towards the courtyard ending the line of shitty-house of Baelish._

 _"Jon – go through Baelish's books, confiscate all his holdings and gold. I will need that gold if I am to fuck those thousand pleasure slaves that Ned has collected" ordered a very happy Robert. "Oh, if Baelish survived that fall, tell him as long as he continues finding me gold, he shall live. Else, he will go the same way that those dragon did." And without a single glance, he walked away from the small council chambers, presumably to oversee Selmy's preparation for the Northern journey._

 _All in all, South's reaction to the happenings of North was relatively calm. Except for Robert's defenestration of Baelish, but somehow, that wouldn't really matter one way or the other. The fact that Robert would be journeying to Winterfell on the other hand would be a cause of concern for the Starks. Not a particularly huge one but still, a cause._

Littlefinger reminds me too much of my former RA. Pretending to be best friend while sniffing around for weed. Always reminding that there is a strict no party rule while remarking, "Dude – you look like shit." Slimy bastard. Wait until the next chapter on how Voldemort handles the slimeball.


	3. Ready to Head South

AN: Somewhat short chapter compared to the previous ones. Shorter mainly because it is about LV leaving North. _HeyStarDust: Voldemort won't be doing outrageously cruel/insane/nutcase things but a number of thing he does may not exactly be sane - by normal standards. Let me know if his actions are getting too much insane and I will see what can be done. His insanity will most likely focus on the Lords then anyone else. No point in killing/torturing good hardworking small folks. Think of LV as a magical revolutionary with a god complex, huge ego and a very, very selfish (immortality, fun) outlook of life._

 **Table of Contents**

Month 2, 287 AC (Winterfell) Voldemort POV 1

Month 3, 287 AC (Volcano Town) 2

Month 2, 287 AC (Winterfell) Voldemort POV

The king's party had been in Winterfell for almost a month. And everything seemed to be going rather swell – especially for mother who had apparently seduced Cersei. Fortunately for both of them, I was the only one who had realized that so far. Sooner or later, I would have to confront mother about what she intended to do with Cersei. Can't really have the queen staying in my home for an extended vacation or at least without proper supervision. And proper supervision would be rather hard to maintain if she were mother's paramour.

The king on the otherhand was busy hunting and whoring. Uncle Ned and Robb helped him in his hunting, Uncle Benjen was more then happy to show him the whores (even if my spells ascertained he never got to fuck them – grope and kiss, yes, fuck no). Tyrion Lannister, the imp spent his time drunk out of his mind. No point in letting a smart enemy run around unchecked, observing the ongoings of my primary base of operations. Rest of the king's party on the other hand however, were not having a swell time – poor food, shitty accommodation plus the occasional glares from my death eaters had them ready to run.

While everything was well on regards to the running of Winterfell during the King's visit, the conversation with Ned about me not bending knee to Robert was decidedly not the good part. The dumb shit was truly getting on my nerves and the worst thing was my magic itself would not let me outright hurt him. Even when the dumb bastard was clearly on the wrong, I could not hurt him. At least I could crucio the rest of Northern mudbloods if they were to act against my or North's best interest. Ned Stark on the other hand, I could not crucio – not even a tiny pain hex, most likely because we shared blood. Perhaps a family thing?

Right after dinner, the fool walked into my chambers and growled out, "Nephew, what were you thinking? Disrespecting our king? Refusing to bend knee to the king? Are you trying to be a traitor to the throne? What is wrong with? Have you no honor?"

Truly, this naive fool is something. So, in my Lord Voldemort, greatest dark lord to ever exist, exterminator of the muggles, tone I spoke, "Uncle – you will watch you tone when speaking to me. You might be the regent, but never forget, I, Lord Voldemort am the master of North. Do not speak to me as if I were one of your vassals. Is that understood?"

He appears somewhat cowed and replies, "Regardless, what you did today was out of line and you know it. I will not have my nephew turn traitor to the realm."

"Don't trouble your tiny little brain uncle. North has no need to turn traitor to the realm. Torrhen Stark bent knee because he knew he couldn't fight three dragons. His fealty to the throne was based on the throne having dragons. Now there are no dragons. As such, the agreement is no longer valid. When I decide to take the mantle of Winter King, it won't be because of turning traitor, it will be because the agreement turned invalid. Of course, if dragons were to return, now Winterfell has the means to take care of overgrown lizards. Time of Winter is here uncle – you need to decide what is important to you, land of your birth or some distant concept of honor that no longer applies." The cutthroat lawyers from wizengamot can be the best teachers when it comes to subvert honorable buffons – the very idea that we can secede from the iron throne because Torrhen's bending knee was to throne having dragons is now no longer valid was a completely lawyer-y thing to do. Strictly speaking, if any of the previous Stark Lords had even an iota of common sense, they would have used that argument and broken off the throne long before Ares burned Rickard Stark.

Honorable Ned now looks constipated and answered, "Still it doesn't feel right nephew. We depend on the seven kingdoms for food and other resources. Declaring independence might land us in too much trouble."

And that is the strategist that lurks beneath the honorable fool. "Not to worry uncle within next 20 years, it will be all taken care of. And, just to keep your mind at peace, I won't declare Northern independence as long as Robert is alive, nor will I hasten Robert's death. Will that ease your mind uncle?" The last part was important since he has some inkling of how I operate and without my assurance about not assisting in Robert's death, the fool might just find me complicit if the pig were to die due to natural cause.

Just like that, the royal visit continued. Robert continued to drink away, was fooled into thinking he banged all the exotic whores while his wife was being banged by my mother, the Lady of Winterfell. And if my suspicions were correct, the two women were having fun with the number of servants Lyanna kept for her own pleasure. Never had Winterfell seen so much moontea – not that anyone had the guts to whisper about it, least they might land in mother's crosshair. If it wasn't for one of the Lannister opening his mouth about visiting the volcano, Robert might have even forgotten that.

Month 3, 287 AC (Volcano Town)

Due to Robert's indulgence, the day long journey to Volcano town ended up taking two days. It meant the workers had some extra time to hide some of the more esoteric, war-minded project I had running – namely steel refineries and similar works. Just because everyone knew North had the means to arm it's soldier with cheap steel did not mean they knew how much steel was being produced. In a few years time, there would be enough steel to arm half of Westeros. Like the muggles say, where there is war, there is money to be made. And with cheap Northern steel, there would be plenty of money to be made when the inevitable war will break out.

By the time we reached Volcano town, everyone was well worn out of Robert's antics but given his kingship, there was nothing anyone could really do.

However, there was one thing I could do. I wanted to do. Some of the most powerful components that make up a magical ward is life force. Freely given sacrifice is especially powerful but as of now, I couldn't see anyway to get a freely given sacrifice – coercion, trickery cannot result in willing sacrifice. The magical protection bestowed on Potter by his mother comes to mind. But, I digress – a sacrifice, even if it is not freely given is enough to power some truly wonderful magical wards. And, with all these southern fools here, I was free to get a number of sacrifice by force or trickery.

Ideally, I would have liked to simply crucio some of King Robert's party or even the fat fool himself to death and use them as sacrifice, but given the infancy of my powerbase, I had to resort to trickery. Basically, a few confoundus on the Southern knights and they willingly climbed atop the mouth of volcano and got drunk. Next thing you know, those poor bastards fell into the boiling lava courtesy to a gust of wind that came out of no-where. Then I had a stroke of luck – the greatest living knight (supposedly), Ser Barristan the bold decided to save those poor bastard who were still screaming down the magma vent. Unfortunately for him, a volcano is not particularly forgiving and so, I got a willing sacrifice. 10 forced sacrifice, one willing sacrifice gave volcano town some extra-ordinary wards. Not quiet on the level of Hogwarts or Winterfell, but close enough. The only thing I regret is that those death will forever be deemed accidental and not attributed to myself. Pity that.

Despite the death of those ten southern fool and one kingsguard being ruled as an accident, somehow, a rumor started – apparently, those men were heard mocking the North a few night before and as such, Old Gods took upon themselves to punish the interlopers. Good for me.

The loss of his Lord commander to what was initially a freak accident but now rumored to be vengeance of the old god, finally got Robert to get up his fat ass and decide to head South to Kings Landing. Unsurprisingly to me, surprisingly to everyone else, Cersei announced that she would be staying in Winterfell for the foreseeable future along with her two youngest children. Her oldest would be fostered with the old lion. Robert was more then happy to be rid of his bitch queen and even his children.

It was then I made my opening move – or more accurately, Robert did the opening move for me. I had already implanted suggestion that since the queen will be staying in the North, by all rights, the heir of North is to remain in the capitol as a guarantee for the safety of the queen.

Right in the great hall, Robert bellowed, "My queen has chosen to stay in Winterfell for the time being. It seems she is rather taken with the cold Northern winter. Well, good for her – means some lucky whore shall share the Royal Bed from now on. I might even create a position of Royal Whore. However, since the queen will be here for who knows how long, I will need someone from North to stay in Kings Landing. So, I have decided that We will be traveling south with the incumbent Lord Brandon Stark. Stark go pack your bags, my queen wants to stay here, that is her choice but until then, you are coming with me." He delivered the whole thing in a single, uncaring bellow, and ended it with, "More wine!"

As mutterings started, Ned gave a furious glare at Robert but didn't say anything. He seemed to know that provoking the King at this point wasn't particularly wise. Cersei on the other hand had an icy glare worthy of the frost giants themselves. Some of the Northern lords that were in attendance, quickly finished their drinks and retired towards the semi-private room set for them. Whatever goodwill the king had managed to gather amongst the Northerner's was quickly vanished in one single move. The ease with which a muggle mind can be meddled with always amazes me. The reaction of Winterfell soldiers and civilians was even more profound – they saw a whoremonger throwing away his beautiful wife and at the same time, kidnapping their lord who had lead the to so much prosperity.

Despite the generally upset demeanor amongst the Northern lords, I was feeling rather giddy. Robert played right into my hands. The conglomerate of Northerners gathered in my private solar were angry to say the least. Lord Manderly, the fat man of North was the first to express his displeasure, "My Lord – King Robert has gone too far. The man comes here in our country, throws away his wife like yesterday's trash and then decides to take our Lord hostage? Damn southerners think they can push North around and get away with it? We won't let them. Give us the word my lord and we will teach them a lesson they shall never forget."

The other Lords chorus in approval. "Aye – this insult cannot go unpunished. Something needs too be done" whispered Bolton. Somehow, Roose Bolton reminded me of Lucius Malfoy. Slippery, dangerous and very opportunistic. The only problem with Bolton is that his house has rbelled against mine far too much and when you couple that with Lucius-esque intelligence, trouble is brewing. Something will have to be done. Unlike Malfoy, Bolton doesn't love anyone, so the whole, obey or your family will suffer routine was not going to work. Then, I had a very dastardly idea. House Bolton could be used as an abject lesson to everyone. Now, we just had to wait.

I look around and pretend to think for a bit. "As of now, we can ill-afford to directly antagonize the King, however, we do need to remind them that North is bigger then all the south combined. Uncle Benjen, as of today close Volcano town to all visitors. Any southerner noble you find inside the town, have them shipped of south of neck, after stripping them of anything valuable. I will require each of you lords to provide men – the larger house will send 200 men and smaller ones will send 100 men, all under the age of 25 for military training, here in Winterfell. Each one of you will receive individual orders when you leave Winterfell – you will follow those orders to the letter. No exception. And now my friends, even if the fat king made the evening unpleasant, there is no need to let a damn southerner come in way of our fun, aye? Uncle Benjen, if you would escort everyone to the great hall? Lord Manderly, please stay behind." With that the impromptu meeting came to an end.

My private meeting with Fat lord of the North went rather well. In a gesture I had perfected back in earth with my inner circle, I sat imperiously without making a sound and thus, forcing my subordinate to hesitantly start, "My Lord, What can I do for you?"

"When I ordered all the lords to send men to Winterfell for military training, it was for a bigger gesture. Can you guess it?"

"Not to be presumptuous my lord, but I have seen the prowess of your death eaters. If those death eaters were to train the men to be even half as good as they are, that army, even if only a few thousand men can crush any of the southern house. I won't make anymore guess then that my lord", spoke Wyman in a low guarded tone.

"You would be right Wyman. They would make an excellent army. However, just because I want the southerners to understand North is not be trifled with, we can't go invading the south – we simply do not have enough men for it. However, since we are simply making a statement, I have an entirely different target in mind. You know your history, don't you? You know what happened 2000 years ago?"

The man appears in deep concentration, pulling out every history details he can – I see his mind churning even without active legllimancy. He then says, "You don't mean what I think you mean, do you my lord?"

With a chuckle, I reply "That is exactly what I mean – 2000 years ago, House Stark invaded the Sister islands, The Three Sisters and it was foiled by Arryns of the Vale. Those island are a stone's throw away from White Harbor. And well, I suppose it is time to remind them North never forgets."

He gets an unholy gleam in his eyes and says happily, "Those sistermen have been causing issues with our tradeships, charging us more and more for trade items. This will teach them a lesson" and quickly, adopts a more serious tone, "My Lord, we do not have enough warships at this moment – I believe we need at least a year to make enough warships."

"Yes, I am aware of that. During that time, I will be in Kings Landing causing as much trouble as possible and keep the focus solely on me. Meanwhile, it will be your responsibility to make those ships. Uncle Benjen and my death eaters will get the soldiers ready. I shall have some ship designs for you."

"Ship designs? I did not know you were an architect sire" says the fat lord, a hint of disbelief seeping into his voice.

"There are many things you don't know about me – this is one of them. I have a warship design and a troop transport design for you. All the construction will be done in Volcano town under utmost secrecy. My men there have already constructed a basic shipyard for you. One of the death eaters will show it to you tomorrow. Any questions?"

"No my lord. I understand. Soon, we shall be ready to teach the southerners a lesson in respect."

Truthfully speaking, the shipyard was not constructed by any of the muggle worker in Volcano town. Right after I ordered the fat lord to build ships, I apparated over to the town and started to build the shipyard. Plenty of trees had already be cut down and it was rather easy to use some basic construction spell and have the trees join each other into a shipyard. A few more spells had the wood hardened against natural or man made disaster. All in all, my shipyard was ready in less then 4 hours. One more spell saw the canal widen enough to accommodate for my ships. Things go well (of course it will go well, I am the dark lord), there will be an invasion and a lot of dead muggles.

Two days after the announcement by Robert, we left for the capitol. Only two of my death eaters would accompany me while the other 8 stayed behind to oversee the training of my army and recruit new death eaters. More importantly, a retinue of 100 Winterfell soldiers were following me south. When questioned, I simply said, "Well, you are taking one north man south, why not take a few more? More the merrier? My men haven't enjoyed south during peace time." Take that however you want muggle. Of course I did not tell anyone about another hundred soldiers who had been dispatched earlier by ship towards Kings Landing.


	4. King's Landing - The Arrival

AN: _Voldemort in this story is still only a six or seven year old, physically that is. So, to the reviewer who wanted Voldemort to start fucking ever woman around, well, I don't think even a wizard can start fuck before puberty. Pairing might probably go with casual or maybe Voldemort/Wildling babe/Margarey/Danaerys. Haven't really thought that far. Would have gone with Cersei but she is simply too old and I more or less removed her from the equation by making her Lyanna's f* buddy._

Month 5, 287 AC, King's Landing

It took us a bit over 2 month to travel from Winterfell to the capitol. Despite marching at top speed, as per Robert's insistence, the convoy stopped at every major castle, causing the delay. Things would have been be much simpler if I were to simply apparate out or even use the muggle transportation from Earth.

A party of what appeared to be a feminine bald man, two old men – one weak (pretending), other spiry – a dour faced shit, a happy but air-headed shit and finally, a very foolish, naive brave man was standing outside the city gates to welcome us (the king anyway). On my inquisitive glance, the dwarf, Tyrion Lannister whispered, "The baldy is Master of Whispers Varys, old man is Grandmaester Pycelle, the other old man is Jon Arryn – hand of king, dour face is Stannis – Master of Ships, happy face is Renly – Master of Law, shifty one is Petyr Baelish – Master of Coins and finally, Ser Oakheart the staunch – Lord Commander of Kingsguard". (Given the volcanic death of Barristan, Ser Arys Oakheart was elevated to the rank of Lord Commander) During our journey south, I had developed a sort of friendship with the dwarf.

The dwarf was happy his sister was dumped in the North far away that she couldn't hurt him and at the same time, angry with Robert for throwing his brother Jaime in the dungeons. As far as he knew, I was also angry with the king, and apparently, this allowed us to bond over shared "anger". Interesting fellow, smart too. He would have been a shoe-in candidate as my inner-circle member if it wasn't for being a bit softhearted and more importantly, the Lannister pride.

The dour-face Stannis was first to greet us with, "Robert – rather kind of you to let us handle the kingdom for almost 5 months. And now, you have brought the whole North with you."

Renly quickly interjected, "Not to worry Robert – the realm has done well despite your absence. But, I did not expect Lord Stark to come south with you. And the queen? I do not see her or her wheelhouse?"

Robert responds with an uncaring shrug, "My wife decided the frozen North is better for her constitution then Kings Landing. She will be staying there indefinitely along with my two youngest. As for Brandon Stark here, well the queen is there he is here."

A lengthy silence ensues only to be broken by a perplexed Jon Arryn, "What would poses the queen to stay in Winterfell instead of the capital? And why would you bring Lord Brandon Stark here – he should be learning to rule his lands, now that he is nearing his majority."

"Who knows what that woman is thinking? All I know is I can whore as much as I want without that harpy cursing my bollocks off. Now, I need to hurry – Baelish, you have some new girls for me I trust?", shouted Robert. Petyr Baelish gave a self-effacing grin and quickly guided Robert away, presumably towards a whorehouse.

Seeing Arryn and other small council member still perplexed, I give a rather loaded response, "I suppose the queen had more then enough of her husband's whore mongering and drunken antics. Not exactly a shining example of chivalry the king is."

Arryn gives a sharp look and says, "That is the king you are talking about Lord Stark."

"King he may be but he is still a drunk whoremonger. Try not to deny it Lord Arryn. If you wish to deny it, I shall understand, after all you taught him all he knows."

The old man looked as if he were forced to swallow a biter pill. One for Lord Voldemort. Zero for stupid old muggle.

Before he could formulate any response, Varys quickly asks, "If I may my lord, why did you chose to visit kings landing? Starks don't really come this far south unless they have a good reason."

"You are the Master of Whispers aren't you baldy?", I asked? Before he could answer anything, Tyrion gave a drunken, "Yes – he is the master of whispers and apparently quiet rude. It is a customary to introduce yourself before asking questions".

I then continue, "Whoever said I am here by choice? Didn't you spies tell you the reason? It seems I am here to as a hostage. In Robert's own words, since North has his queen, he should have it's Lord. Arryn, you taught the fat king something more then just drinking and whoring."

Arryn appeared more and more distraught when Oakheart asked, "And what would that be my lord?"

"A little thing called how to break friendship and cause dismay. After all, by taking a 7 year old heir hostage, he has destroyed his friendship with his foster brother. And of course, having Jaime Lannister thrown into the deepest, coldest dungeon of Winterfell must have been enough to destroy whatever little affection the queen had for him. I wonder how angry Tywin Lannister is. Tyrion here tells me the realm owes more the a million gold dragons to Tywin. Is that true?" I phrase the whole thing in the most innocent manner possible, which is somewhat ruined my death eaters standing around with swords ready to be drawn.

All six of the pale significantly. Tyrion, still drunk decides to juice things up a bit with, "Which one was worse? Angering my father? Or angering the whole of North? I have been told North never forgets and of course, a Lannister always pays there debt. Not sure what that means for future, but well I am only a dwarf. Well, cheerio lords – I need to find a whore, my cock is getting cold."

The dwarf is one of a kind. None of my death eaters had that kind of wit. Bella was witty but in a sadistic way not fun way. Before I could make up an excuse and vanish, Arryn speaks, "Lord Stark, please you should know that you are in no way a hostage. The very idea of keeping a Stark as hostage is insane. If it wasn't for a Stark, Robert wouldn't be King"

I adopt a chilly demeanor, "Arryn, I do not know how your mind works, but I was forced to leave my home. I was forced to journey for two months and apparently, I will have to live in this smelly, dirty town for who knows how long. All against my will. Your king himself told me and my bannermen I am coming south since the queen chose to stay North. If that does not mean I am a hostage, then what does it mean?"

None of the fools have any comeback. However, Stannis the dour-face grinds his teeth, "That might or might not be true, but you will show the Hand of King the respect he deserves. Do you understand boy?"

I finally had reason to let loose my dark lord persona. Just like that, my face took a snake like appearance, eyes narrowed to a slit and my magical aura was let loose. For the uninformed, my aura is that of killing curse. Suffocating, uncomfortable and powerful. "Lord Dour face – like Tyrion said, you should introduce yourself before you speak. Since you didn't I shall call you Lord Dour from now on. As to respect, I am Lord Voldemort. North never forgets. Arryn should remember that. Excellent, anymore questions?"

They all appear to be flummoxed at how a 7 year old could talk down them down, and so, taking advantage of their state, I speak out, "Since King Robert has proven himself to be a rather inattentive host by not providing lodgings for us northern savages, I believe I shall take my leave in order to find proper quarters." With a mocking bow, I left them to their own thoughts.

Finding quarters wasn't that hard. The men dispatched via. sea had already identified a proper mansion for me to take over and all I had to do was imperio the owner. A quick bit of spell work and a grand mansion on top of the cliff right next to the Red Keep was available for the Northern force. Given my paranoid self, I spent the better part of night setting up the wards – nothing extravagant, just friend or foe identification wards, repulsion, notice-me-not, fear, standard anti-fire etc. The more extravagant work like setting up escape tunnels towards sea (almost a 200 feet down the cliff) or towards Flea bottom would have to wait until tomorrow.

The name king's landing was a misnomer to the highest degree – damn place oughta be called shit's landing. Smelled as if someone had cast a fart hex on Hagrid. My mansion was somewhat immune to the smell as the cold sea air took care of all unpleasantness but still, the view wasn't particularly nice. Perhaps I should transfigure a few nobles to house elves and have them clean the area? Growing up during the second world war had given me a deep seated hatred of self-entitled rich pricks, probably why I had all the rich purebloods kiss the hem of my robe even if I personally thought the whole thing rather distasteful. Perhaps I should make these buffoons do that once I take over? Food for thought. Do I even want to take over?

Court of King Robert, Jon Arryn presiding, Jon Arryn's POV

Being the hand of king, despite the popular opinion wasn't an endearing job – at least being Robert's hand. Truthfully, Robert, while I think of the lad as my own son, has proven himself the be one of the worst kind of king. Not on the scale of mad king but still, not good for the well being of realm. If this stunt of exiling his own queen in the North and then, taking the incumbent Lord of said country hostage is not the proof of his stupidity, then I do not know what is. He had already been shaming his queen by unrestrained drinking and whoring, but what he has done now is beyond the realm of acceptable. Not just that, he threw his one of his own kingsguard in a dungeon for almost a month – not something a rational man would do.

Now, the whole of North is angry since he has taken their Lord – who by all account is rather well loved, hostage. Then, there is Tywin Lannister. Exiled his daughter. Threw his son in a dungeon. Basically, Robert has angered the largest portion of Westeros, which coincidentally happened to have some of the best fighters, and he has also angered the most feared man who the crown owes more then a million dragons in debt. Madness.

To make things worse, it has been a whole week and Brandon Stark still hasn't bothered to show himself in the court. Despite being a seven year old lordling, the boy has the temperance of wolf-kings from stories. He is truly Brandon's son. The little display when we greeted him first had solidified his image as the wolf king. When he said, "North never forgets", it appeared to be directed towards me. Was it because he blamed me for Robert's stupidity? Quiet possible, given that I had a direct hand in Robert's education. But, deep down I felt there was more to those words, something prophetic. Perhaps an old man reading too much to an angry child's rambling but again, Brandon Stark or more commonly known as Lord Voldemort did not seem like a child at that moment.

When he finally deigned to show up in court, it was as if he were invading the Red Keep. Without any warning, 20 armored Northern soldiers walked into the court room followed by the boy himself. He was flanked by a pair of dark clothed, masked guards. Death eaters he called them and apparently, "They eat death meant for him and shit said death on the enemy". And, I was inclined to believe their words given how terrifying they appeared to be.

After herald announced him as "Lord Brandon Stark, heir to the North", I asked him, "Lord Brandon, would you like to address the court?"

One of his death eaters spoke in a deep, threatening voice, "Hand of the King, you have not been given leave to address my master with his first name. You shall either address him as Lord Stark or not address him at all. If you do not honor such protocol, I will challenge House Arryn to an honor duel!"

Everyone, including me were simply aghast. It was customary to address a heir with their first name and challenging a Lord Paramount, much less the Hand of King to an honor duel was simply unheard of. Before I could formulate a proper sentence, Ser Meryn Trant spoke, "My Lord, shall I teach this peasant a lesson?"

As my mind tried to comprehend the situation, the brat interrupted, "Wait, wait – if this is to be an honor duel, we should decide on the terms first. Since the old man there has insulted me and now, has challenged mine to a duel, what will I get when my champion trounces the fool?"

For the first time since I was a youngster, I Jon Arryn the wise, am seeing red. The impudence of this brat. "What do you want brat? Not that you shall win of course."

"I get to address you in any manner I wish." replied the brat promptly.

"And you shall take the black when my champion kills your death eater. Agreed?" I fire back.

The brat simply smirks and says, "Aren't you supposed to be Jon Arryn the wise? The fair? Does anyone thing our terms are equal? Me, a young 6 year old wasting my life in wall vs. a decrepit old man being insulted a bit? Soon to be Lord wasting his life away vs. an old man who can't satisfy his wife being called out for what he is?"

The answer is clear on everyone's face is clear and before I could rectify the terms, the brat again speaks, "However, I am in the right here. The gods are with me. Let the terms stand and soon, I shall be calling the Hand whatever I wish. If any of you wish to call him something specific, let me know and it shall be done. Now, fight!"

How can a six or seven year old be this smart? He played the crowd. No matter how this duel ends, I will loose. The Lord commander attempts to stall the duel until the king arrives but the brat wouldn't have it - "My honor has been questioned and North shall not stand for it!". I am certain he doesn't particularly care for honor either way.

Within an hour, everyone have arrived in the training yard. Even Robert managed to get there – some how Ser Oakheart managed to find him and get him away from his newest whore. Damn Robert didn't even try to stop the duel. Soon enough, Robert proclaimed, "Let the duel begin!"

The brat was sitting on the far end surrounded by his soldiers, all of them ready to draw at a moment's notice. Meryn Trant gave a deep bow to the King while the death eater briefly glanced at this master. Uncivilized bastard.

Trant was heavily armored. The DE seemed to be wearing voluminous black robe that gave appearance of dark cloud whenever he moved. When I commented how the DE seemed unarmored, Ser Oakheart pointed out, "The way his robes appear to swell around key areas means he is well armored underneath his robe. His robe is also being used to hide his movements. Blount will most likely loose and loose badly at that."

"Death Eater – just a fancy title made by a child with too much time in his hands. Once his champion looses, I will but the boy in his place", I said despite the severe misgiving in the pit of my stomach.

Just as Oakheart predicted, Blount lost. Badly at that. The DE easily dodged his first strike, stepped behind the knight and peppered his joints with sharp thrust, not enough to kill him, but enough to render the poor bastard immobile. In a display of brute force, the DE ripped off the kingsguard helmet, placed a knife at the fallen opponent's jugular and looked at his master as if asking for orders. The boy looked around and started to play the crowd. And just as before, he started to make me appear as the villain.

"Should I let the kingsguard die? Should he die because he fought for Jon Arryn's lack of decorum? What do you say people? Let an innocent knight of realm die for the stupidity of the king's hand? Ser Blount, do you wish to die because Jon Arryn has to feel good?" The boy delivers it perfectly. He spoke in a low voice and yet, there is no doubt in my mind everyone heard him.

Ser Blount is the first to respond, "No – I do not wish to die for nothing." The crowd then chants, "Mercy, mercy, mercy".

With a smile, the boy says, "Let him go. No need for a good man to die because a self-important old bastard had to feel good. And Jon Arryn, I believe I have earned the right to call you whatever name I wish?"

I grit my teeth and reply, "You do Lord Stark. You can call me by any name you wish."

Robert laughs and says, "Brandon – you should call him righteous fool. We wanted to call him so back in the early days."

"Bah – I will think of something else Robert" replied the brat. Apparently, the brat could call the king by his name and get away with it. But again, he might simply call for an honor duel since Robert initiated the breach of etiquette. His guard had been proven to be sufficiently better then one of the kingsguard. According to the stories, a single death eater was capable of taking 10 well armed men and come out top so the brat had nothing to worry about.

"Old fool – what am I going to be doing during the entirety of my stay here as a hostage? I do need to learn how to rule. Find me something to do or I might start taking over the damn place" shouted the impudent critter.

With a grimace, I answered, "There is nothing for you to rule and no one will take you under there wing after today's display, so I suppose you could attend the small council meeting. Just try not to do a repeat performance."

The bastard smiles and says, "Well Jon Arryn, I shall see you tomorrow at this small council meeting. Unlike you all, my instrument is not so little so perhaps as long as I attend the meeting, you might want to call it big council meeting."

The joke is somewhat lost on me until Baelish starts laughing. Quickly, I catch on – how did Ned's nephew become so vulgar? Talk of North being a savage place by the sept might be true.

Voldemort's POV

The whole court attendance was glorious. I got to piss on the muggles and had a license to insult the king's hand. As much as I like killing, this whole political intrigue might be even more fun. Even better, I managed to push my way into the small council as an observer. What chaos shall I sow there? They will die by my hands eventually in the most painful manner but until then, who says I can't have a bit of fun at their expense?

So far, I had already terrorized six of the seven small council members. Only Petyr Baelish had escaped my initial terror blitz. As such, I went about rectifying that error right after the court. My search lead me directly to a rather high end brothel.

As the greatest dark lord who commanded some of the worst death eaters, I thought I had seen just about the most vile acts possible, but Baelish seemed to blow all my previous exceptions out of water. When I arrived in his brothel, he was in the process of talking young girl on why being a whore was the best option for her. Killing to serve a purpose or even killing for fun is entirely expected from Lord Voldemort – as long as the one doing the dying happen to be a mudblood of course. But, I had never forced anyone, especially one so young into prostitution. Baelish was forcing a girl into prostitution by acting like a father figure. Simply disgusting.

For a moment, I simply wanted to crucio the man until his brain melted but given it was too early in the game, that wasn't an option. So, my death eater, who by now knew how to read my subtlest mood shift quickly knocked the man unconscious. The girl, who was staring hatefully at Baelish looked at us with a hint of gratitude and also fear mixed with defiance – forcing me to look at her with mage sight. Lo and behold! She had the blood of first men and that meant she was an excellent candidate for my death eater spell! Well, a quick leglimency scan showed a deep seated hatred for all of kings landing and just about every single noble you could think of. Could this be my Bellatrix Lestrange in this world?

"Girl – You hate that bastard don't you?"

"What is it to you brat? You are just another rich noble, why do you care about us poor bastards?" spat the 12 year old.

A bastard? "I am not just another rich noble girl. I am from the north. We don't make a habit of whoring out girls. And, do you hate that shit?"

"Aye – I hate him. And I hate every other rich bastard here in King's Landing" spoke the girl.

"Say I have one of my men teach you how to fight, will you work for me?"

"Why? I am not going to be your whore if that is what you are asking."

"I don't need a whore and if you insinuate I am a whoring man, I will cut your tongue. Understood?", this is followed by my death eater giving her a menacing look.

A bit cowed, she says, "Why do you need me anyway? You have your soldiers. And by the look of it, you are plenty rich."

"We are new to Kings Landing. Can always use someone familiar. Also, don't you want to get back to whichever noble sired you and dumped you like yesterday's trash? I am here giving you the means, the question is will you take it?"

She gets a thoughtful look and asks, "You aren't going to whore me out or anything?"

"No – my death eater here will train you and someday, if you so wish, I will have you as one of my death eaters."

"Death eaters? I like that. I'm in – don't get in my way when I go after the bastard that sired me", she said.

"Mind if I ask who exactly sired you? And somehow, I get the feeling that you aren't going after a single person, are you?"

"The king sired me and his hand, Jon Arryn took me away from my mother because I wasn't supposed to disgrace the Vale. I will see them both dead, one way or the other."

"Well, I have no plan to obstruct your vengeance. But, what should I call you?"

"Mya Stone is what they named me."

"Not anymore. From now on, you are Bellatrix of House Black. And, you shall be my greatest death eater."

"You are just going to give me a house? Can you even do that? The realm says I am a bastard."

"Why do you care what the realm says? You are a bastard only if you think you are. From now on, you are Lady Bellatrix of House Black, sworn to House Stark. And that is that. Anyone has a problem, one of my death eater shall have them to an honor duel"

"Hahaha – Yesterday I was a bastard, today I am a Lady. But, what do you plan to do with this bastard?"

"Well Bella dear, he wanted to whore you out, so would you like to torture him a bit? Don't worry about the consequences – I will make him right as rain afterward."

"How?"

"Doesn't matter – and again, do you want to get even?"

"Oh yes" and with a grin she approaches Baelish who is finally coming out of his forced sleep. Quickly, I ensure the privacy charms are still in place and sit down to watch the show. One of the death eater moves forward to assist my newly coined Bella in her first step towards vengeance. Her smile is eerily reminiscent of my Bellatrix. Perhaps I will truly have a version of Bella back.

By the time Baelish came out of his forced slumber, he was properly chained in the BDSM themed apparatus that adorned his office. As he comprehended the situation, he started screaming his tops off about how we were all going to suffer and all the jazz.

Bella asked, "Lord Stark, How much damage can I do to him? And when you said you will make him right as rain, do you truly mean it?"

Irritated at her continued questioning of my abilities, I spat, "Yes woman. Do what you wish with him. As long as you don't kill him, I will have him fixed. Think of it as magic – until you swear yourself to me, I cannot tell anything more." Actually, I can but if she swears herself to me willingly, the death eater spell will hold much easier.

And then the torture of Baelish began. "Want to whore me out, huh pig?" and Baelish gave a shrill yell courtesy of her pulling his finger nail. The she started using a simple stick to swat the slimy mudblood all over as if he were a stack of hay. It was like watching a master at work – no two blows fell at the same place and by the time she was done, Baelish could not even speak. Finally she whispered in his ears, "I am going to give you one final gift. May you never ever think of whoring out young girls like me again" and crushed his balls against the stone floor. And now I was truly thankful of the privacy wards.

What this girl did to Baelish, it was some what similar to what Bella did to the warden of Azkaban a long time ago. Most of the pureblood death eaters always thought physical torture was beneath them. Me? I knew better. Physical torture gives a certain kind of pain that magic simply can't replicate and Bella was one of the few DE's that understood this. Just like magic could never replicate physical pain, it also could never give the physical pleasure of sex – the one thing that my horcruxes deprived me of. By the time I had learned of this not so tiny fact, it was already too late for me back then but here in this world? I had no need of horcrux. I knew how to make the philosopher's stone and well, magically speaking, I was greater then Merlin. One of the many reason why puberty sounded so wonderful. Pity mother got her claws on Cersei.

But, I digress – that is all in the past. Right now, my Bella reincarnate had done an impossible amount of damage to Baelish and since letting the man dead was not an option for now, it was my solemn duty to make him whole again. However, I had no intention to let him go easy. My choice of healing spells on Baelish were simple. They would fix all the damage cosmetic or not but, leave the pain. In fact, I had designed those spells for the express purpose of torturing traitorous death eaters without ending there lives. No amount of spell or pain relievers would fix the pain – only time. The pain would last as long as the would would have lasted if they were to heal by natural means. So, poor Baelish was going to be pain for a long long time and maester would simply tell him he is suffering from delusions of pain – nothing more. The only thing I didn't truly heal was his crushed testicles. Correction – I replaced the crushed flesh with some rubber balls. He would really have balls from now on. See mudbloods? Lord Voldemort can make jokes. Ha ha ha ha.

My Bella was pleased so, even if you mudbloods are horrified with the slime-balls treatment, not my problem. Liberal use of oblivate spell had him believing that Bella died during her whore training and the evening of beat down never happened. The small council meeting should be interesting – let's see how the council functions with a not-really-there Master of coins.

Next week, Small Council meeting (Neutral POV)

As custom dictated, the meeting was held right after breakfast. The attendants were all supposed to be there right on time, no exceptions. Even Lord Voldemort had arrived exactly on time despite being only an observer. Minutes trickled by but the most integral part of small council, Lord Baelish was still not there.

"Old man – is this supposed to be the council that runs the kingdom or a mummers dance, where one can do as they please? Where is the masters of coin?" asked the rather chipper child.

With a exasperated sigh, the Hand of King responded, "No Lord Voldemort – this is not a mummers dance. Lord Baelish should be on his way, perhaps he was caught up with something important?"

"Something more important then the small council meeting? Don't answer that fool. He is probably finding another whore for the king. I am finally glad Aunt Lyanna is dead – at least she did not have to suffer the indignities of a whoremonger for husband, unlike our queen. No wonder the queen chose to stay in Winterfell."

Varys titters a bit and says "Indeed", while Pycelle simply harrumphs. Arryn on the other hand gets a deep look and says, "Perhaps my lord, you should know that the king has become this way by losing the woman he loved?"

"Well, if you can love a woman you have seen twice then yes. But you should know Arryn, a leopard doesn't change it's color nor does a pig change it's diet. I wonder what Lord Lannister has to say about what happened with his son and the exile of his daughter?"

Before Arryn could answer, Varys picked up, "I believe I can answer that my lord. Tywin Lannister is on his way to kings landing. It seems he is rather angry and might recall the debt owed by crown."

"He should be. Any father would be humiliated if their daughter were to be treated the way Queen Cersei was. And what is this I hear about the crown's debt?" perked up Voldemort.

Arryn simply gave another sigh and thought, "Why is this little shit intent on raising hell? I should have just stayed in the Eyrie and let Tywin Lannister run things here."

Pycelle, always the Lannister supporter answered, "Well my lord, crown owes about a million dragon to Lord Lannister and well, given how King Robert has treated both Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime, Tywin Lannister might not be particularly forgiving."

Before Lord Voldemort could say anything, Varys threw his two-cents, "Maester Pycelle – don't forget about the debt to the Iron Bank of Bravos. Our King certainly loves his fun."

As Pycelle grumbled, "It is Grandmaester not maester", Arryn finally spoke, "Please Lord Voldemort – let the Master of coin talk about the debts when he arrives. For now, let us simply enjoy some wine."

Lord Voldemort who by now had gone completely silent gives a small growl and thunders, "Foolish old bastard – you think I will be peaceful when the realm owes gold dragon to some bravossi cunts? If owing gold to Lannister wasn't bad enough, you had to go borrow from those cutthroat bankers too? I do not know what you fools have been doing but I swear if this doesn't stop, North will disavow any debt of the Iron throne – when the Iron Bank comes collecting it's debt, North will not be held responsible. I won't have a faceless man visit me in my damn chambers, hear me you old fossil?"

All the small council members present are suitably alarmed by the declaration. Stannis is the one who finally gets his act together and speaks, "Then what exactly will you do my lord? It is not like you can stop Robert from borrowing, is it?"

"What I shall do is inform the Iron bank North will not support anymore lending to the throne. Once the other lord paramounts are informed of this, what do you think they will do? The very best is they will follow my example. The worst is they will come for all your head. After all, you all allowed the kingdom to bled didn't you?", smirked the Northern Lord.

Ser Oakheart who had so far been silent finally speaks, "Perhaps someone should go and get the Master of coins? He might know more about the debt situation."

Renly smiles and shouts, "Let me! I will go and get him. No matter where he is, I shall drag him here."

Arryn somewhat relieved to not be at the center of a very troublesome conversation, lets the happy Renly run off.

Small Council Meeting, Voldemort POV

The meeting was fun. More then fun actually. I pushed around the whole debt to bravos and treatment of Queen Cersei as a moral issue. Using Lyanna was a masterstroke – Arryn's face was brilliant. There reaction on how I would disavow all debt of Iron Throne was marvelous. Bah – as if I were afraid of some assassins. To be honest, I would love to get my hands on some faceless men. I never really saw a need for cloak and dagger business such as assassination but still, no harm in learning new tricks.

A few minutes after Renly took off, a guard wearing Renly's color ran into the meeting room and said, "Grand maester Pycelle, Lord Renly is asking you to come immediately. Lord Baelish is in tremendous pain my lord."

Oakheart, always the one looking for the security and everything shots upward and speaks sharply, "What happened to him?"

"I don't know my lord. He looks perfectly fine but is complaining of pain. He says it hurts all over but there seems nothing wrong with him", said the messenger.

"It might be some poison, but I will have to see him first" spoke Pycelle and we all made to follow the man, presumably to wherever the Master of Coin was located.

Unsurprisingly, Baelish was in a whorehouse. To keep up with the persona I had built, I fired, "Oiee Arryn – should we change the title Master of Coins to Master of Whores? After all it looks like the man lives in a whorehouse."

Dour-face-Stannis gives a bark of laughter surprising everyone while Arryn simply glowers. Once we reach Baelish, Pycelle looks all over the man and says, "There is absolutely nothing wrong with him. Whatever pain it is, it is all in his head. May be he drank too much? Or hit his head too hard?"

"Or, maybe he knew that I was going to ask about the debt and now is hiding behind this pretend pain. Ser Oakheart, perhaps you should poke him with your sword?"

Oakheart gives a hint of a smile but Baelish yells out some more gibberish. Sounds like, "Fuck you – fuck your debt. I am in pain here."

Pycelle then says, "Lets try some milk of poppy. That might help some."

Arryn quickly stops him with, "No Grand maester. That might stop his imaginary pain but it will also make sure he can't attend the meeting. The small council can't go on without a master of coins for too long. Baelish are you willing to give up your position as Master of Coins?"

"NO" yelled the worm.

"Then you shall accompany us for the meeting. Take some wine if you have to but do not let this imaginary pain get to your head" ordered Arryn.

As we walked back, I asked, "Baelish – I might be able to help you with your pain. Are you willing?"

Still wincing in pain, the man barks out a yes.

My death eater, in a blink of eye gives a sharp jab onto his kidneys. Baelish drops to the ground and yells, "Why did you do that you little bastard?"

"First, you shall address me as my lord since my station is higher then yours." BANG – the DE punches him, knocking a few teeth out. "And, by causing some pain in your kidneys, wasn't the rest of your pain lowered?"

"Yes it did my lord" gritted out the worm.

The death eater growled in his ear, "Shouldn't you say thank you?"

"Thank you my lord"

The other small council member who had simply watched us for the time being started asking what the hell just happened. Pycelle then asked, "My lord what exactly did you do?"

"I had read about imaginary pain and how you can focus on real pain to forget the imaginary pain for a bit. So, Baelish here was a test case. Now we know. And Master of Coins – every time you have pain, you will have to have someone inflict REAL pain on yourself. Obviously, I won't be there. Maybe one of your guards?"

Renly, always the one for a bit of fun, "I am always for inflicting a bit of pain my friend"

Stannis the loyal brother interjects, "He is talking about real pain you fool not your kind of pain. Just because you love a bit of pain in your backside doesn't mean we need to hear about it.", thus putting down the happier brother.

After that, the meeting proceeds in a somewhat boring fashion. The debt situation is not good – a million to Tywin, another million to Iron bank. My threat of writing to the Iron bank and disavowing the debt on part of North seems to be working and the council seems to rather compliant. Tywin on the other hand, is apparently less then a week from King's landing. Let's see what the old lion will do to the stag – tear it to pieces perhaps?

Voldemort's Mansion

Almost a month since arrival in Kings Landing and yet, so little had been done. I already had a equivalent of Bellatrix, now it seemed an equivalent of Narcissa would have to be found. Narcissa Malfoy _nee_ Black was an excellent secretary, and as it turns out, despite being the greatest dark lord ever, my file management skills are useless then ever. No wonder I haven't done much despite being in King's Landing for almost a month.

Terrorize the small council. Check. Establish a base of operation. Check. Get a Bella in training. Check. Terrorize Lord Baelish. Check. Recruit local soldiers and saboteurs. Not Yet. Escape plans. Not Yet. Identify who is who. In progress.

My base of operations had been well set. The wards were operating properly – no unwanted muggles would be able to notice it much less enter said property. The secondary objective, establishing tunnels leading to the Flea Bottom, Red Keep and down towards the sea, however was lagging. I had tortured out enough mining spell from the goblins that digging the tunnels wouldn't be an issue, but apparently the Red Keep had it's own magic. What was it with this world and the pockets of magic lying all around? I would have to find a way to either circumvent the magic of Red Keep or even better, take over the magic of Red Keep. Taking over the Red Keep seemed like the best option since it would give me a foot hold in the heart of the nation's capital itself.

The implication of Red Keep having magic was much more drastic. Winterfell had magic and it was 8000 years old. Red Keep was only 300 years old and it also had magic. Did it mean all the other castles had magic? I had a gut feeling the major castles at least might have magic, however small. A tour of Westeros was in order. Perhaps visiting every single major castle in the name of friendship but modifying their magic for the express purpose of serving my needs was a strategically sound concept.


	5. Lions in Kings Landing

_AN: Many thanks to robertbrady162 for all the excellent ideas._

 _SalemTheSpeakerOfTruth – Yeah Voldemort's father is a muggle. Figured since his mother is a squib, he might have gotten magic genes. Let's not think too hard on the genetics of magic. Fiction is fiction, screw logic. If you really want to start messing with magic and genetics, you might decide magic is decided by multiple genes instead of a single allele. Then say, his muggle father must have had magical ancestor. Might work. Might not work. Logic and fiction rarely go hand in hand, sort of like Logic and Politics._

 _LightLordCyberGate: Voldemort will definitely have children but not sure about wife and all that rot. Trying to set Voldemort in a loving relation hurts my head too much, can't imagine how to set that up. But, I will probably have him traipsing around the seven kingdoms sowing wild oats everywhere he can – you just have to see._

 _I am not planning for this to be a serious story. If I were, I would write about real life._

 **Tywin Lannister POV**

Angry doesn't begin to describe my state of mind. Daughter exiled to the North, son confined to the dungeon for more then a month. Did the fat fool forgot he owes me more then a million gold dragons? My initial thought of how this could be Ned Starks doing was shattered by the knowledge of how the king took the North's heir hostage, who by all accounts is revered in that savage place, almost as if he were the second coming of Brandon the builder himself. The fool must be going mad. I do not see any other explanation for this. So, I am here in King's landing days after the fat fool returned.

The letters from Cersei detailing her stay in north did not indicate any coercion from her host but heavily hinted that Robert had been abusive and had often publicly humiliated my daughter. Lady Stark, mother of the now hostage northern lord, wrote to me as a, "Unfeeling bastard who sold his daughter to a drunken oaf." Nerve of the woman but again, Brandon's widow was supposed to be a savage woman who enjoyed beating and beheading criminals. No matter what, Robert was the one I would deal first and then I might answer this insulting letter.

After almost a month of hard riding me and my 500 men party arrived at the capitol. Kings Landing was even worse of a shit hole then I remembered – smelled like horse's ass and filled with unimaginable scum. With an overlord like King Robert, that was to be expected. Half of the small council was there to welcome me – probably because they were afraid I might call in the debts or may be the Reynes of Castamere? The second option sounded might good – perhaps Arryns of the Vale.

Jaime was there to greet me but he looked emaciated, nothing like my golden haired lion. Pycelle, the toady was there as usual. Renly Baratheon, the incompetent Master of Law – he had proven himself very useful to pass laws I needed even if he tended to suck up to the Tyrells as a general rule. Then there was the Hand himself.

"Lord Arryn – you seem to be doing well despite the kingdom being on the edge of bankruptcy with a King hell bent of destroying the fragile peace we have finally achieved."

"Please my lord, there is no need to be caustic. Things are well in hand" replied Arryn.

Before we could debate, Renly spoke up, "Perhaps we can take this to a more private setting?"

Then I heard a new voice, it sounded like that of a child but still strong, "For what reason Renly? Do you wish to keep the dirty laundry of the kingdom confined inside the Red Keep? Or may be in one of the whore house you frequent?"

As the king's brother reddened, the boy, who must be none other then Lord Brandon Stark, continued, "If keeping this debacle secret is truly necessary, I can offer the services of my mansion. I don't believe Lord Lannister here wishes to feel the stench of the fat king, especially when the said king has gone hunting and isn't expected back for next two weeks."

"Isn't back for next two weeks? What is the king thinking? He leaves the capital for two weeks without anyone to rule?" I explode.

"Supposedly the king thinks the kingdom is not worth ruling or mayhaps, he believes our dumb bastard here can rule the kingdom while simultaneously driving Westeros to debt with both you and the Iron bank" snarled Lord Voldemort.

"First, I presume you are Lord Brandon Voldemort Stark and second you seem to refer Lord Arryn here as dumb bastard. Why is that? Lord Arryn – I do wish to know the debt with Iron bank but only after reaching the mansion of Lord Stark here. After all, there is no need to be subjected to the stench of that place just yet", I reply.

"Well Lord Lannister, dumb shit here was stupid enough to insult me and challenge me to a duel. My champion here took care of it, earning me the right to insult the toothless wonder as much as I want. Isn't that right wrinkly old bastard?" smiled the boy – no not boy, the Lord. I am not going to make the same mistake as Lord Arryn. I had heard tales of his death eater on my way and the black clad monolith next to him radiated something truly sinister. Being the Lion of Rock meant choosing your battles carefully.

Arryn simply grouches and says, "Lets get to Lord Voldemort's mansion quickly. I haven't seen his mansion and am curious to see how it looks like."

The other members of small council quickly hem in. Renly asks, "Lord Voldemort, perhaps we should summon Stannis? He might want to see your mansion too."

"Do what you will. Just make sure he doesn't wander or one of my guard might just skewer him. And do not summon the eunuch here. I have no intention of making my home open to spies", spoke the Northman.

Smart and Paranoid. Wonder who taught the boy? Certainly not Ned Stark. Too straight laced that one. Maybe that mother of his? A possibility. Getting a spy inside Winterfell is almost impossible given how loyal the northerners are to the Starks.

The mansion is grand and seems well guarded. Guards are stationed every where. I am certain there are guards stationed hidden from our eyes too. Just how many men did the boy bring with him? "Lord Voldemort, just how many guards did you bring here?" I asked.

He smiled like a snake and said, "Enough. Enough for a Northern lord."

Someone has been teaching him how to speak like a politician. As we enter the compound, the DE barks some non-sensical words and only after that the gates are opened. At my questioned glance, he replies, "ID challenge. Fail to respond, be a pincushion." The blank look on the small council member means they have no idea what the boy said and truthfully, neither did I but I got the gist of it. Say the wrong word and you are dead. Intriguing. Something to implement in the Rock. Maybe.

The snake-wolf leads us to a well lit conference room and sits at the head of the table. The other end of table is intentionally left without a chair. As if to ensure his supremacy, he says, "The chairs are bolted to the ground. Just to make sure you can't beat each other with them." I however know the reason. He doesn't want anyone to sit on the other end of table and thus, usurp him as the head. The boy is brilliant – that is for certain.

Once everyone is seated, I start, "Why was my son in the dungeons of Winterfell for more then a month? Why is he emaciated? Is that how the king treats his own kings guard?"

Arryn answered, "My Lord, Ser Jaime got in an altercation with one of Lord Stark's death eaters. As such, King Robert had Ser Jaime confined to the dungeons to prevent any unnecessary blood shed."

"Somewhat accurate but too simplistic to give a proper picture. I believe I can shed a more proper light. Yes – Jaime did initiate an altercation but I do not believe it was with any malicious intent. His tone was light and playful – there was no ill intent when he told me to watch my tone or loose my head, did you Ser Jaime Lannister?" asked Lord Voldemort in what seemed to be an easy voice but hiding a dark undertone.

My dearest son, excellent fighter, but mostly stupid, answered, "No my lord – there was no ill intent."

"Aye – So, a duel was initiated, a duel to submission only. My friendly death eater here," as if the black clad monstrosity could be friendly, "easily disarmed Ser Jaime with neither being harmed. But, King Robert then threw a hissy fit. In a what most likely was a move to win some friendship points with Uncle Ned, he then ordered Ser Jaime to be confined in the dungeons – _Keep him in the darkest dungeon you can find, until I am ready to leave the North –_ those were his exact words I believe. When Queen Cersei attempted to intervene, he backhanded her. Everyone were rather furious at him – Uncle Ned especially. He was mumbling woman beater and glad Lyanna is dead or something similar I believe."

Cunning, smart, paranoid and articulate when needed – why couldn't my son be like this? The tale I just heard had me raging. "Is this what you call an altercation Arryn? There appeared to be no ill-intent since Lord Stark here is assuring me the duel was completely friendly. Two men testing each others valor, nothing malicious."

Arryn hemmed and hawed. Dumb shit bastard – and now I am using the boy's vernacular, seems incapable of words. As usual, Renly speaks up, "Well, Robert is the king, isn't he?"

Stannis then answers, "Just because he is the king doesn't mean what he did was right." What exactly was this man playing? He doesn't mean to usurp Robert, his own brother? Joeffery, my grandson is next in line – even if Robert proves himself to be the worst king possible, I am not going to let some justice obsessed fanatic take away my grandson's birthright.

"Then what do you propose Lord Stannis?" I ask.

"I am not sure what we can provide to right the wrong done to you but we are certainly open to talks", replied Lord Arryn.

This is certainly a fruitful turn of events. While I had some ideas on what I wanted to wring out, the presence and more importantly, the maturity shown by the Northerner changed everything. "In that case, we shall talk tomorrow my lords. It seems I will have to gather my thoughts. Jaime, you shall stay here with me. You will not return to Red Keep until the negotiations are completed."

For once in his life my son doesn't complain. Lord Voldemort then speaks up, "Well if that is all then, I shall have my Lannister guest escorted to the guest room – Lord Tywin, your second son, Tyrion has been staying as a guest of mine. Until then, I believe I should escort our other guests to the Red Keep?"

The idea of having to deal with Tyrion is nauseous but Jaime seems to be happy. Seeing the smile on my favorite son makes the idea of having to tolerate the imp almost welcome.

 **Lord Voldemort POV**

The meeting between Tywin Lannister and small council (half of it anyway) was fruitful, for me anyway. I had successfully brought Lannister to my side and cowed the small council even more. While the servants guided the two Lannisters to Tyrion, I walked the four small council members towards Red Keep. For the most part, the conversation was civil, other then me making fun at expense of Arryn, everything went well.

Strictly speaking, playing these political games would not be in my nature. My personality was suited more towards direct take over. Humoring these wannabe Lords, especially that arrogant muggle Tywin Lannister did not sit well with me. But, truth be told, taking over the world was not all that fun. Ruling earth had been more of a chore then anything else and I was not going to make the same mistake again. Instead, what I plan to do is play a much more fun game. A tournament really. A tournament of muggle lords with myself as the sole spectator. The idea was to set North as a weapons supplier while instigating hostilities all over the world – Westeros, Free cities and Essos. All of them. That felt a lot more fun then simply taking over the world. Tywin Lannister with all of his arrogance would be a vital in the game. The beginning anyway. After that, he was going to die. Maybe have his son Tyrion do it? Perhaps have one of my death eaters crucio him until his brain melt?

 **Meeting between Tyrion, Jaime and Tywin (Neutral POV)**

Tywin Lannister strode imperiously into the chambers where Tyrion was being housed. On seeing him, both Tyrion and the recently released Jaime, quickly rose to their feet. After shedding their happy grin in favor of the serious demeanor Tywin liked, Tyrion started, "Father, it is absolutely smashing to see you. Jaime here is rather pleased to be free of the cold dungeon", all with a drunken slur.

The once proud knight, Jaime Lannister appeared weary and said, "Father, I believe I am done with King Robert. And, what about Cersei?"

Tywin growled, "Well, it took the cold Northern dungeon to knock some sense in you boy, but at least I have your heir back. As for you sister, I think she is best situated in the North. She doesn't seem to want to return here to King's Landing and she feels that Casterly Rock is too close to King's Landing."

"So we are just leaving her in that savage land then?" shouted Jaime.

Tyrion shushed Jaime with, "Quiet brother – no need to insult our hosts. If you didn't notice they seem to be against King Robert, same as we. Enemy of our enemy is our friend. Insulting them in their own home won't win us any favor."

Jaime, frowns a bit, takes a swig off his mug and responds in a despondent fashion, "I suppose you are right Tyrion. Cersei is in their capital and her well being rests on the child lord of theirs". Then the two brothers laugh, one sad, the other happy.

Tywin angrily interjects, "Both of you quiet. Tell me what you learned of the North during your visit. Now that I seem to be in an alliance with Lord Voldemort, I need to know exactly who I am dealing with. Start with those black monsters he has."

Jaime throws his hand and says, "Ask him – I stayed in a rather cold dungeon for the most part."

Tyrion follows up, "I am afraid Father, my stay in North wasn't particularly memorable. Spent most of my time sick. A fever their Maester called it."

"You still heard things didn't you?" asked Tywin.

"Well, those black monster as you put it are his personal attack dogs. Or, as he says, eat death meant for him and shit death back on all his enemies. All his soldiers are covered in top quality steel. I couldn't help it but get the feeling that the Starks have plenty of wealth and are simply pretending to be _not_ wealthy for reasons unknown." He then fidgeted as if the next sentence might lead to his termination.

Being his usual impatient self, Tywin prodded, "Go on imp, what else do you have?"

"Father, I know you don't believe in magic but the things I heard, things I saw – they can't be anything but magic. Everywhere in North, we heard how the old gods are speaking again, how the Starks are being favored by the gods. Their lord, that child as you put it, is supposed to be particularly well favored by the gods" spoke Tyrion hesitantly.

An incredulous Tywin retorted, "I suppose you have proof of this then?"

"Nothing that can prove those allegations. However, there are a few things we do know. Hoster Tully forced Ned Stark to marry his daughter. Then, that daughter died in a freak accident – swallowed her fork which in turn, tore her throat and then her belly. Swallowing fork is one thing but getting one's throat torn? Think of the volcano then – it could have erupted right underneath Winterfell and wiped out the wolves but no. It chose to erupt less then a day's ride AND kill not a single soul. Stark's being the sole beneficiary. Ser Barristan and around 10 other southern nobles perished in said volcano, all of whom had disparaged North one way or another. Then there is the final piece of evidence, a bolt of lightning fried Robert's horse the moment we entered Winterfell. It was almost as if the castle itself was warning the king about not screwing up. Each of those incident might be unique but take them all together?"

The three stay silent after Tyrion's outburst, Tywin appearing the most serious of the lot, speaks in a gravely tone, "No matter what, we are the lions of rock. Every thing you just said are small folk rumors and we shall not base our dealings on such ramblings. Try not to give much credit to hearsay imp."

As the conversation dropped into a lull, Tyrion decided to prod his father a bit with, "Well Father, what do you intend to do with our new situation? The queen, who happens to be a Lannister, is now exiled. My brother, your eldest son was imprisoned in a cold dungeon for almost two month with little to no food. What does the great lion of the rock intend to do?"

Jaime snorts a bit of laugh while Tywin seethes at the questions. No matter what, his youngest, the abomination was gifted in getting on his nerves. "Jaime will loose his white cloak. Cersei, for now will stay in North – it seems North might be the safest place for her. As for us losing influence in court, Tyrion, you will be staying here in Kings Landing with at least 500 Lannister men and keeping things under control. I will see about having Kevan or someone appointed into the small council. Perhaps as a master of law? Renly Baratheon is incompetent enough to justify his removal."

Before Jaime could make any comments about leaving Cersei in the North, Tyrion gave a sarcastic retort with, "And I suppose, you can simply bully the king into throwing off his brother in favor of Uncle Kevan?"

"Why your new best friend Lord Voldemort will support our cause of course!" grinned Tywin.

"What best friend? The boy-lord doesn't particularly care me – he has me as a source of information but I do not think he considers me a friend. Doubt he considers anyone a friends. At least he doesn't treat me the way he treats Arryn."

"Then why did he let you live here?" asked a perplexed Tywin.

"Probably to irritate Robert. Doesn't like him much I think. Calls our king names like fat fool, idiot and so forth. Refreshingly idiotic."

"Regardless, you will help me work the boy to our cause imp or I might just dispose of you", threatened Tywin.

"Do you think that is a good idea father? The boy as you put it, has Cersei and her two youngest. He has the guts to call the king and his hand idiots. If he were to discover your manipulations, who knows what he might do?" cautioned Jaime.

Despite his earlier thoughts and what could definitely be characterized as fear, the old lion pushed on with, "Bah – he is a brash, arrogant boy with a few powerful dogs. Nothing to worry about". Both his sons knew the man was at the very least apprehensive of Stark but wisely kept their mouth shut. The three carried on with mundane chatter, waiting for their host to make an appearance.

 **POV Change, Lord Voldemort**

Escorting the puny lords that made up the small council wasn't as much of a chore as I expected. All of them were rather quiet most likely due to Tywin's outburst. The next council meeting should be fun. "Arryn, what did you think of the old lion? An arrogant, entitled Lord or a concerned father?" I spoke.

Jon Arryn gave a sigh and replied, "I cannot answer that question as of now my lord. He certainly has a right to be angry and everything he has said so far appear to be right on the mark."

"Thinking of giving the man a council position? He already has enough gold. Doubt you can offer him any trade deal" I say.

Instead of answering Arryn counters, "Please, we are all tired. Things like these can wait until the next council meeting."

I give a short laughter and say, "If you say so Arryn. I joyfully await to see what blunder our fat king's council makes".

With that, I left them right at the gates and headed towards the area where I had housed the Lannisters. Growing up in a muggle orphanage in midst of second world war and then attending Hogwarts as an orphaned muggleborn had instated a deep sated hatred against every single rich lords in me. It was one of the reason why I love when those inbred pure blood death eaters kissed the hem of my robes. These Lords on the other hand, weren't even worth that. I would see them dead eventually but until then, there would be a lot of reckoning. Niccolò Machiavelli, a rather weak wizard who attained fame in the muggle world as a great philosopher, once wrote, "If you want to truly hurt a man, take what he loves most". (AN: _I am sure it WAS NOT Machiavelli who said that. My ex most likely knows who said it since she lived by that maxim, at least when it came to me. But again, she never knew what I loved most so, it was all good. Hahaha._ ) I would start with Tywin Lannister, and slowly work my way to every single Lord of Westeros. It was going to be a lot of fun. Now, back to the story.

I ambled by way to the Lannisters quarter, intentionally taking my time just to spite them. By the time I arrived there, the three were somewhat antsy – apparently they didn't have much to talk about. Poor excuse of family. I could talk with Bella and Nagini for hours without getting bored but these muggles, father and sons, can't talk with each other for less then an hour? Poor excuse of human beings.

"My favorites Lannisters! How are you all doing?" I intone in my most exuberant, childish voice. The first key to establish one's superiority is to ignore your target's rank and establish a completely see-through kinship. Instead of addressing the big dog there, I addressed them all. Instead of calling them Lords, I simply used there last name, conveniently ignoring their much loved lordship.

And, just to make sure, they wouldn't return the apparent kinship by addressing me as Brandon or magic forbid, Voldemort, the pair of death eater with me presented a hostile aura. A subtle push of my magic added to the effect. So, any thought of returning the familiarity died inside the depth of their mind.

Unconsciously, all the three of them rose and returned my greeting, "Lord Voldemort, thank you for having us here". Impossibly, the three of them said the exact same word at the exact same time. Tywin Lannister would be rather peeved I was sure. The irritated glance he gave his sons was proof enough.

The old lion continued, "My Lord, it seems both of our families have equal grievance with the throne. Both our families have been slighted enormously. The question is what shall we do."

"No, no, no – Tywin Lannister, the question is not what shall we do. The question is what shall you do. I already know what I shall do and the wheels are already in motion. Westeros will simply have to wait for it. North always remembers. North never forgives. It seems King Robert has forgotten that."

The twitch in Tywin's eyes indicates how angry he is at my casual use of his first name. He attempts to reciprocate the favor with, "Vol.." at which my death eater growls and flexes his sword hand. It is enough to stop him. He again continues, "Lord Voldemort, first I would appreciate if you were to observe common decorum. Second, you seem to allude North is planning something, I would propose that West join whatever you are planning. It is only prudent that our Houses align given the common cause we have."

"Tywin, decorum is something that I do not really care, after all you and your ilk enjoy calling us Northerners uncivilized savages. I am simply returning the favor. It just happens that I have the guts to do that in front of you instead of behind. It is funny a seven year old Lord who is more then happy to call out the shortcomings for all southerners. But that is neither here, nor there. As for you joining me, I am not sure that is a good idea – for your House."

He grits his teeth and asks, "And why would that be?"

"Are you truly in a position to go in war with rest of Westeros?"

All three of them look shocked and reply with a dumbfounded, "What?"

Tywin then says, "You cannot be serious".

"What I can and cannot do is not your concern. I don't even particularly care if you were to tell this to every lordling you could think of. I have offered you sons safe-haven in my home here since it irritates Robert and amuses me. I am more then happy to help you enact some vengeance upon the throne".

Before Tywin could muddy up the talks with his reproachful retort, Tyrion started, "Well then in that case, shall we talk about what House Lannister will do regarding the slights against it? And, how exactly House Stark intends to support Lannister's efforts?"

"Removal of Jaime from the Kingsguard for starters. Then have Kevan inserted as Master of Laws – removing Renly is basically forcing the king to chose between his brothers, thus driving a wedge in the Baratheon family. I might even increase the interest on the gold that the crown owes me", growled out Tywin.

I then asked, "That does sound all good but, how exactly do you intend to force the king to have Renly vacate the position of Master of Law? He might remove Stannis from ship – after all, there is no love lost between the two of them. Then there is also Littlefinger – Master of Coins is a pretty cosy position."

"Getting the king to remove Renly is where you come in my lord. Given how you seem to be able to speak with the hand and also the king, you should be able to steer his decision. And, Master of coins is a position we can do without – that position is simply asking for trouble. The iron bank will target whoever is the Master of Coins when they come collecting", intoned Tyrion.

"Well then, I shall do my best to incite the court in support of your agenda. In return, I wish to open a Northern trading center somewhere in the Westerlands – don't really care where. Are we in agreement?"

The northern trading center will be a front for my military base. The American muggles had made force projection into an art form – establish military base everywhere you go and the moment some uppity bastard rears their head, ant-boot.

Tywin tries to decipher possible hidden intent behind the whole trading post but doesn't see any reason to object. A bit of leglimency might have helped in that though. He then says, "I can agree to that provided you are agreeable to stationing a contingent of Lannister guards in Winterfell for protection of Cersei."

I did expect that proposal, and reacted accordingly. "Are you implying that my soldiers are incapable of protecting my guests? Or, perhaps you are questioning my honor? Worse, can it be that you are attempting to insert your own spies in my damn castle? This is beyond acceptable. I have half a mind to deploy a reeving party into Westerlands."

Tyrion, always the mediator, squawks in a panicky tone, "Please Lord Voldemort – I am sure father did not mean any such thing. He simply wished to keep some of his men near Cersei – personal guards if you will".

I pretend to fume, "Sometimes, intent and words, they mean the same Tyrion. And, your father appear to have forgotten that".

Tywin, who is well rattled by now, says, "Please be assured Lord Voldemort, I did not intend for my words to come the way they apparently did. What I am talking about is a small guard force that can run personal errands for my daughter."

I continue to present my sullen, reproachful persona. Tyrion then says, "Well, it seems we are at an impasse. My father really wants some guards for Cersei. You my lord on the other hand are definitely against it. What can we do to reach an agreement?"

Exactly what I was waiting for. "All right then. Say a very small force of 10 guards – all of them less then 21 years old. I don't want any veterans who might wish to compete with my soldiers. I don't want any knights who might insult old gods. You have surely heard of the fire-y grave that welcomed Barristan and his cohort? Nasty business that."

Tyrion, now full in negotiation speaks, "Aye we can agree to keeping the guards young – provided, their commander is from one of our sworn houses. Maybe a second son? And not 10 guards. I won't agree for any less then 50."

I narrow my eyes down and intone, "The first I agree – one of your sworn house. Whoever it is, must reach my aforementioned requirement. And I will agree to 20 guards – no more".

"40 guards" said Tyrion.

"15 guards" I said in a peaceful fashion.

"30 guards" asked Tyrion.

"Are you testing me? 14 guards", I said.

"Have you ever heard of the term negotiations boy?" shouted Tywin.

I gave a shark like smile and said, "Aye I have. And, I have all the cards. So, I am doing the negotiations. Do you wish me to say 5 guards now?"

Tyrion hastily shouts, "NO – we are good with 14 guards".

I give a nasty grin, "And remember one thing – our way is the old way. If those guards were to step a single toe out of the way, off with their heads. Surely you have heard of my mother's justice? Perhaps your daughter has learned something from her too – mother wrote to me about how dear Cersei has become her best friend."

Tyrion is the only one to laugh with, "Well, if Cersei takes up execution, she will finally live up to her wishes – she always wanted to kill a man. What do you think father? Your daughter seems to be having fun in frigid North and might not even need those guards".

Before Tywin or Jaime could say anything, I cut them with, "As much fun as this has been, I believe it is time for dinner? We do need to retain energy for tomorrow. Plenty of people to torment".

And, I hit the three with a slight cheering charm just to make sure there is no lingering resentment – can't have them resenting me this early in the game now can we?


	6. Lannisters, Small Council and Vale

_AN:_

 _Light Lord Cybergate: Voldemort will definitely make allies in the southern side. His methods won't exactly be traditional or kosher but it will definetly fun - for us anyway. Lannisters will be one of his primary allies, followed by Reach. Perhaps Dorne too. Take a guess what Reach and Dorne has that any red blooded male would want. So, no need to worry about LV getting overrun._

 **Table of Contents**

Month 6, 287 AC, Small Council, Lord Voldemort POV

Jon Arryn's POV, Right after the meeting

Month 7, King Robert's Court (Neutral POV)

Month 7, King Robert's Court, Lord Voldemort POV

Month 8, Lord Voldemort POV

Month 8, 287 AC, King's Landing

 **Month 6, 287 AC, Small Council, Lord Voldemort POV**

Unlike the previous meeting, where I delayed my arrival just to spite the doddering old fools, this time I was already seated in the meeting room long before they arrived. Importantly, I had taken the chair meant for the Hand of the king. Normally I would grab the King's chair but if I had done so, Arryn would still have a chair. But, by taking the Hand's chair, he didn't have a chair – the fool would not take the King's chair and so, would have to sit in one of the lesser chair.

Arryn is the first one to open, despite his surprise, "Lord Voldemort, you are sitting in my chair!"

"Did I really? Was there a name written in it?" I prodded.

"Of course there is. The chair has Hand of King written on to it", snarked out the old man.

"Well, I did not see it. Baelish – did you see it?" I ask the Master of Coins, knowing full well that the man wouldn't dare counteract my wishes – he must remember what my death eater did the last time.

Baelish gave a pained smile and said, "No my lord. I did not see anything like that written in the chair".

"Well there you have it old boy. I saw the chair first and so, it is mine", I said happily. "Oiee Baelish – still in pain huh? Want the pain relieving punch my DE gave you?"

Renly and Pycelle openly laugh at that, while Stannis gives nothing but a twitch. Baelish on the other hand looked constipated but since my healing curse was still in effect causing him to be in perpetual phantom pain. Weakly, he nodded. Just to spite him, I asked my death eater, "Well, I don't hear anything. Do you hear anything my friend?"

Jason, my first death eater gave a gravelly, death sounding laughter and said, "I do not hear anything sire. Perhaps I should open the mans mouth?"

"Well then Lord Coins, your would be savior can't hear anything".

Finally, Baelish relents and says, "Please – would you help me with my pain? Perhaps a single hit at my kidneys.."

Before he could complete his sentence, Jason in a blinding speed, punched him, knocking his breathe out. Everyone, even the newly minted Lord Commander, Ser Orys Oakheart laughed. Just to get the point across, I growled out, "What are you all laughing about? Are you all laughing about the pain of Lord Baelish here? Isn't that a bit cruel of all you noble lords?" That was enough to remove them from from their high horse and for me to get a bit of satisfaction.

Arryn then started, "Well, I suppose we can get started. All of the council members are present and accounted for. Even the honored observer is here". The last was obviously meant for me.

The eunuch spoke in a dithering tone, "My Lord, I think you are missing the man who actually called this meeting. Where is Lord Tywin Lannister? Shouldn't we wait for the main man himself?".

Arryn looked around and said, "Well, he is not here, we are here. No need to delay for someone who can't show up in time".

I then happily pointed out, "You would be right except for the fact that unless Tywin shows up there will be nothing to talk about. Your dear king was the one who slighted him. And now, it is your job to make sure the old lion doesn't do something untoward for it".

Instead of replying, Arryn simply chose to _not_ talk anymore. Soon, Tywin Lannister walked in a rather imperious manner. The old man could give Lucius Malfoy a run for his money when it came to flair and dramatics.

Before the small council member could say anything, Tywin started, "Well, now that you are all here, how do you intend to fix this blunder that King Robert has made?". The man has balls you got to give him that – he comes in late and then implies that everyone else came late. Excellent way to mess with your opponents psyche, provided they weren't me or mine. Anyway, I was supporting the golden fool of a lion for now.

Arryn bristles a bit but doesn't contradict him. Renly, always the impatient and foolish, is the first one to open his big mouth, "Aren't you the late one Lord Lannister? No – That doesn't matter I suppose given the reason we are here. My brother has truly and utterly shamed your house and you want answers. That is about right, am I not?"

"Succinctly put. I want answers and more importantly, proper reparations. I would also have an apology from the throne but given the King's behavior, I shall settle for some monetary goods", offered Tywin.

Varys tithered, "The answers would be either with King Robert or maybe with his foster father? None of us can truly fathom how our King thinks, we are after all his loyal subjects".

Tywin snorts while Jon Arryn starts, "Queen Cersei chose to stay in the North voluntarily to promote further friendship between the throne and the North. There was no marital dispute or anger on behalf of King Robert".

I laugh and say, "What friendship? Your foster son threw away his beautiful wife in favor of his whores. Not just that, he has the temerity of taking the young Lord of North as a hostage. There was no need to promote friendship between throne and the North – you foster son King Robert and my uncle Lord Eddard Stark were best friend. But now, remember one thing Jon Arryn of the Vale – North never forgets. North never forgives." My voice grows darker and darker with that short speech – purely for theatrical reasons.

All of them are a bit shocked. Stannis is the first one to get his wits together and so, questions in an aggressive tone, "Are you making a threat Lord Voldemort?"

"Well, all you southerner are going on and on about how savage us Northerners are. So, everything I say is a threat, eh? And, you Lord Dourface, you see threats everywhere", I return in a joyful tone.

Tywin quickly follows up, realizing that I was stealing all his thunder, "Regardless, this is not the time to talk about how King Robert has effectively taken the ward of a great house hostage. How the other great house will perceive this hostage taking will be up to them and as such, not pertinent for now. This is about what the small council and by extension, the King is willing to do for me."

Arryn, who has by now lost all his composure fires back, "Just tell us what you want Lannister and be done with it".

"First of all, you will address me as Lord Lannister. A pauper house like Arryn doesn't get to disrespect mine. Second, the king will remove one of his brother from this council and have my brother, Kevan as a council man. Third, I am effectively increasing the interest rate on the loans I gave to the throne to 18%, compounded every six month. Fourth, I want a written apology from the throne. Is that clear enough for you Arryn?", Lannister spoke out with fury.

The demands laid out by Tywin had the whole council speechless. I wasn't sure who broke the silence first – the Baratheon brothers or the Master of Coins, Baelish. Between the three of them, it was a mad house for a brief moment. Eventually, I had enough and so, removed my shoe and started to bang on the table with it hard enough.

"Enough with it you stupid fools. If you want to fight like headless chickens, try the training yard. Right now, best figure the situation out. Arryn, get your fellow councilors in line!", I shouted.

As usual, Arryn glares at me and tells the three bickering men to shimmer down. He starts speaking in a much more humble and contrite tone, "Lord Lannister, I agree that a large slight has been done against your house and especially your daughter. But your demands are simply outrageous. You must know that."

"Why outrageous? Why should the king have both his brothers in the small council – especially when one of the brother is nothing but a shimmering idiot. And if the throne can't pay my gold back, well, pay me some interest. As for the written apology, it is called civilization, courtesy – did you forget to teach that to your charge? Perhaps the lesson about civilization and courtesy were considered minor compared to lessons on how to beat women?", snarked Tywin.

Varys then speaks in a honeyed tone, "Lord Tywin does have a point Lord Hand. The king having two brother in the small council while no other great house have a say, causes nothing but strife. Add to the fact that you are from Vale and Lord Baelish is also from Vale, it is almost as if the King is trying to cut off the kingdom from the Iron Throne. Not good for the realm."

Renly, seeing an opportunity to have his hated brother removed, gleefully speaks up, "Well, I say remove Stannis as Master of Ships and have Kevan Lannister as Master of Ships. Stannis lost the last dragons, he is evidently useless as master of ships."

I chortle, "Get rid of the dourface shit but keep the happy one, seems a rather easy choice to me".

Stannis slams his goblet to the table, "Don't forget your place Renly. You don't know nothing about law. Even then, who becomes who is up to Robert and not us. Remember that."

Pycelle, who also apparently hated Stannis, spoke, "Perhaps so Lord Stannis, but truth is, the decision and recommendation of this small council goes a long way into what our King does. And, let's be honest, you let the last dragons go away and also, are not a likeable man."

Baelish also speaks up, "Aye – I say send our beloved Lord Stannis to Dragonstone. The weather there is just like him. Why would King Robert want a man who wants to outlaw whoring is beyond me." No wonder the shift bastard wants to get rid of the dourface bastard.

Renly, who by now is more then happy that his position is guranteed points to Stannis, "Well brother, would you like an escort to your quarters? Maybe you need some help with packing? Or maybe not – you probably don't have much of anything."

Tywin doesn't bother to comment on what looks like Stannis's certain dismissal. But, Arryn certainly does. "Please please my lords. We aren't making any decisions regarding the removal of Lord Stannis from small council. It will be up to our king. The next question is the increase of interest to 18%. Lord Baelish, what do you have to say?"

Baelish, whose pain seems to be returning, speaks in a pained voice, says, "Well my lords, the throne already owes 2 million gold dragon to Lord Lannister. Until now, he was charging a measly interest rate of 4%, compounded annually. That was our queens doing. But, going to 18% will simply break the throne. Within the next 5 year, the 2 million is grow to more then 4 million because we will be incapable of paying anything. And, I am certain Casterly Rock will not give anymore loans."

Arryn massages his temple and asks, "What about the Iron Bank?"

I tap the table and say, "Didn't I tell you before hand Arryn? You try to take loans from Iron Bank, I will write to them saying how North will not support any such endeavors. In fact, I already have the declarations written, just a matter of signing them. I also have letters ready to be sent to other houses appraising them of the situation. I told you this right at the first small council meeting and here you are, trying to get more loans. In fact, I will make things even more simple for you. Show me plans to decrease the loans you have against the Iron bank – within next 3 month or I will send those letters."

Arryn looks as if he suckled one of Dumbledore's lemon drops and Tywin turns on me with, "Lord Voldemort, you didn't tell me about the situation with Iron bank."

"Ahh – I suppose with all the excitement, I must have forgotten. I will have someone get the papers to you. Suffice to say, you will be suitably angry at how things have been handled by our useless excuse of Hand and Master of Coins."

Tywin simply glowers. Arryn gnaws his teeth. Baelish gulps and speaks, "Well, if Iron bank is not an option, the only way is to increase taxes. Or perhaps, Lord Lannister might be willing to lower the interest rates, given how bad the situation is?"

Tywin thinks for a bit and proposes, "I can lower my interest rate to 14% and in return, Westerlands shall not pay a single coin in tax to the Iron Throne. That is the best I offer."

Arryn grimaces – it seems grimace has become his permanent feature – and says, "My Lord, I would not have problem with no taxes for a 14% interest rate, but the other great houses would. Perhaps you would be willing to go down to 10% and in return, we shall agree to no tax and a preferred export/import deal with Westerland merchants?"

"Well, get me a written apology and that council seat, then we have a deal Lord Arryn" spoke Tywin in a very magnanimous tone. Stannis closed his eyes, seemingly resigned to the fact that his position as Master of Ship was lost. Unknown to them all (except Tywin, who knew I was going to trick Robert into removing Renly), I had a very different plan about which baratheon brother would lose his small council position.

I then gave an exaggerated sigh and said, "Well, I do not know about you old folks, but seeing how I am just a seven year old, no matter how exceptional, I need to go have so lunch. So, Arryn send a messenger for me when the King deigns to finalize this little treaty."

 **Jon Arryn's POV, Right after the meeting**

Something must have truly gone wrong on how I brought up Robert. His follies are just too much. And then there is that savage – little Ned was such a pliable, decent child. But this boy, he simply makes me want to chop my head off. To top it all off, he has gotten the leave to call me whatever he wishes by some stupid combat right. Damn Robert.

And today, it is not the savage that is giving me headache. It is Tywin Lannister. Truthfully, I can't fault the man, even if I think he is a sorry excuse of a human being. What Robert did was inexcusable. Then, what the old lion ask is impossible. Why by the old god and the new does it have to be me? The concession regarding the new interest and taxes weren't particularly difficult. But, having to remove one of the kings brother and even more, a hand written note apology note from Robert? How exactly am I supposed to do that? Robert might be convinced to remove Stannis. As for the apology, may be I should fake Robert's writing and have him sign it? Might work.

One last that that has been bugging me is the whole _Jon Arryn of Vale, North Never Forgets, North Never forgives_ seemed to be too ominous. I had the same feeling when we first met, I was getting the same feeling now. Some how, the boy was conveying a threat that was beyond personal. But what could it be? Nothing truly came to my mind. Perhaps it was just the impossible situation I was being placed that had gotten to my head?

 **Month 7, King Robert's Court (Neutral POV)**

It took a whole month for King Robert to accept Tywin's demands. By then, the Lannisters had moved out of Voldemort's mansion and established their own base of operations – a rather formidable one given that Tywin had brought a 500 man army with him. During their brief time as Voldemort's honored guests, a proper diplomatic relation had been cultivated between the two previously feuding kingdoms. A diplomatic relation that bordered as military allies.

One of the key point was that a good third of the Westerland navy was loaned to the North for a period of 3 years on the condition that they were not deployed against Westerland interest. Despite the best efforts of House Stark and House Manderly, the northern navy was still not numerous enough to cover both the Eastern and Western shores. And, given the upcoming offensive against Three Sisters and the Vale, most of the available Northern Navy was being routed to the Eastern shores.

One might think Lord Voldemort had to give a lot of concession to Tywin for a full third of Westerland navy but, being a wizard proficient in leglimency, the dark lord didn't have much trouble. All he had to do was point out how Tywin's navy was sitting on it's ass doing nothing but rotting it's hull was enough to get the man roused. After that, Voldemort agreed to pay the sailor's wages, maintenance of the ship and agree for a shipment of ironwood for Casterly Rock. Just like that, Northern Navy swelled in size. Eventually, this agreement would prove to be the death to Balon Greyjoy's campaign against the whole of Westeros in general, Lannisport in particular.

Lord Baelish, the Littlefinger was still in perpetual pain. The new thing was that he had started to engage in BDSM session for whatever pain relief possible. Apparently, the whores loved to hurt their callous master.

Stannis was angry, mortified and hurt. He knew his dismissal was coming but his strict sense of honor wouldn't let him resign. A part of him wanted to kill his brothers but ?

Jon Arryn was finally in a bit of peace, he had somehow coerced Robert into giving to Tywin's demands. Robert even agreed to make a public apology for the slight against his daughter – somehow it did not reassure Jon Arryn, but not much he can do.

Lord Commander Oakheart, being the loyal dog he is did not really care much about anything. The king was not in bodily threat so everything was all good.

Varys, the eunuch spymaster was more perplexed. Confused. Lost. It had all started with the arrival of Lord Voldemort. Roberts craziness was nothing unexpected. Removal of queen Cersei was actually a good thing in his mind since she was keeping things somewhat stable – at least the financial part of the nation. Without her, the kingdom would go into financial ruin, all the lords would bay for Robert's blood, thus paving the path for Targaryen resurgence. That was his plan. But, with Lord Voldemort and Tywin around, everything was going different. His little birds were giving conflicting reports as well. North and the Westerland seemed to be in an alliance, which meant two of the largest, most powerful kingdom would work hand in hand to derail the dragons. They both hated the dragons, each with their own reason. Sending assassins against either of them was not an option – they traveled under very heavy guard. Stayed in private mansion, filled with personal guards, whose loyalty was rock solid. Everything seemed to be impossible.

Just when all these confused, angry Lords and even more of their contemporary lords were assembled in the throne room, King Robert walked in, bits of chicken all over his beard, smell of wine over his face – the man appeared more like a King of Foods then King of seven kingdoms.

As a servant shouted the king's various titles, everyone, except for Lord Voldemort and his death eaters, dropped on their knees. Knowing the futility of asking Voldemort to show proper respect or even decorum, Robert simply scoffed at the boy and continued to the throne.

Jon Arryn started the proceeding, "We are all here to announce the change in small council positions." Murmurs started all over about what might be going on. Arryn continued as if he didn't hear a thing, "Lord Kevan Lannister is hereby instated as Master of.."

Renly looked happy while Stannis looked ill since it meant his dismissal. But it was then Robert intervened, "A moment please Jon", Arryn pauses and Robert continues, "My brother Renly has hereby decided to take vacate his position of Master of law since he doesn't know much of law and as such, Lord Kevan Lannister has graciously agreed to take said position". He delivered the whole thing without a single pause.

The effect was tremendous. Renly looked ashen and his supporters furious. Even the small council members were lost. The look on Stannis's face was most curious – fluctuating around thankful, frustrated and even resentful?

Fortunately, none of the Lords were stupid enough to make a scene. Kevan Lannister gave a customary "Thank You, your grace" but other then that, the whole thing went smooth even if Renly and his supporters were bitterly disappointed.

 **Month 7, King Robert's Court, Lord Voldemort POV**

All in all, my little mind fuck of the three Baratheon brothers went splendidly. Dour face was all set to loose his position but instead, it was the pretty boy who got humiliated in front of everyone. While I had plenty of fun with their situation, the seed of discord sown between the three brothers would prove much more important to my cause later on. The cause being as much war, destruction and chaos in the southern kingdom as possible.

However, this little incident brought another matter in my attention – Lannisters. While I did knowingly elevate the positions of Lannisters, or more likely, prevented their position from being trashed due to the (in)voluntary exile of their daughter, the queen, having them getting too strong was not truly conducive. Tywin was fated to die one way or the other, but before that he would suffer. Perhaps I should magic away their treasury? It would be a striking blow to their ability of causing damage and even more, vex them as to how a thief could make away with their entire treasury.

 **Month 8, Lord Voldemort POV**

I had been here in Kings Landing for months and the novelty was wearing off. After all, there is only so much trouble you can raise without simply killing everyone. My primary goal had been accomplished – I had brought the focus of everyone here in the capital so much on myself via. my antics that the ongoing of the North was completely ignored.

Raven from my death eater indicated the troops meant to attack Sister islands were just about ready. Only a month or so left until the ships would be certified as sea worthy, not that they truly needed to be particularly strong given the short commute between White Harbor and the Three Sisters.

The fleet leased from the Lannisters were now stationed near Flint's Finger in the Blazewater bay and busily paroling my western shores. From the reports I was getting, new recruits were being sent there for their "First Blood" - apparently, there were plenty of pirates, Ironborn raiders and even the occasional wildlings that needed to be killed.

Wasting time here in Kings landing, I had in some extent ignored my more academic pursuits – my store of potion material was running low. And, that was troublesome. The death eaters in North had identified 10 more potential recruits, along with a host of what would be their personal troops. Each of those recruits would have to go through the spell work plus ritual to make them into proper death eaters, which was simply impossible without adequate potion material.

All in all, I needed to get out of King's Landing sooner then later. As I mused on how to make the grand exit, I had an epiphany – why not set up charm work on the resident spymaster so that all the intelligence he (should it be _it_? The eunuch is neither man nor woman) gathers is copied to me. On that note, why not take over some of the independent whore houses for myself? Baelish's whorehouses were all mine – the slimy bastard simply didn't know it. I had already subverted his key underlings or otherwise set up wards/charms to solidify my ownership whenever I felt like.

Speaking of whorehouses, Chataya's brothel was the one I truly wanted. The whore from summer isles was raising her 5 year old daughter, Alayaya to be another whore – a beautiful whore no doubt, but a whore still. In a way I could understand why the whore was raising her daughter to be another whore but it still irked me – seeing parents being cruel to their children knowingly or not always made me angry. Might be due to Merope Gaunt, my mother in previous life, had abandoned me to a life of pain just because she was a weak fool. Regardless, I wasn't going to let the girl Alayaya be raised into a whore, not by her own mother anyway. I already had my Bellatrix, perhaps this might be the Narcissa?

Ideally, I would rush the brothel wands blazing, crucios and avada kedavras raining. But, for now, my takeover of the brothel would have to be on the low. So, we went in with just me, a single death eater and a few soldiers.

Chataya was there to welcome us, "My Lord Voldemort, welcome to my fine establishment. What can I do for you my lord?" and with a giggle, "My girls will be willing to serve you even if you are much younger then their usual clientele."

Ah, the problem of being in a child's body that has yet to enter puberty. I was just about seven years old and despite my wish to make up for all lost opportunity back in Earth, it still wasn't the time. Dumbledore might consider Horcruxes evil but believe me, those things are worse then evil. Before I made my first horcrux at the age of 18, I had fucked half of Hogwarts and a bit of my orphanage, starting with the bitch we called matron. In fact, I had fucked that matron first – muggle bitch was quiet a good lay. But, in my quest for immortality, I made the damn horcrux. Sure, it made me immortal. Sure, it boosted my power quiet a bit. However, the bastard known as Herpo-the-foul neglected to mention how making a horcrux renders one impotent. Not impotent in the biological sense – I had all my male hormone and organs and everything. They worked as expected. Except, the horcrux ritual killed off all my desire for sex. Sex wasn't fun at all. It was just a three letter word.

So, despite being the greatest dark lord of all time who conquered Earth and exterminated the muggles, I hadn't truly had sex for a long long time. Westeros was to be my redemption. And, I was being forced to wait for puberty? Isn't biology fun?

Well, I was prepared anyway. The great big whorehouse in Volcano town had the beautiful women ever imagined. Given my reputation, just about every single Lord were throwing there daughter my way. In medieval Europe, it was customary for Lords to fuck their intended before wedding just to make sure the woman was fertile ( _cannot be sure – I think I read it somewhere_ ) – Westeros didn't have a similar custom but, I might simply insist on it. With my status and everything I was planning to do soon, not many Lord's would have to guts to say no – food for thought.

Biting back a sharp retort, I spoke in a civil tone to the whore-madame, "Chataya, I am here on business. And, my business is not meant for spies", with that, my soldiers immediately fanned out, ensuring there were no ears hiding to hear what I had to say.

The action of my soldiers had the woman cowed rather then my death eater, and she shot back, "What would you have to say to me, a whore? No need to hide the contempt you have for me little lord."

I gave her a shark like smile and fire back, "Well well, the whore does have some guts even if she is raising her daughter to be another whore!"

She gets a deep look of loathing, which might be directed towards me, herself or who knows where. Bitterly she replies, "And what would you have me do with her? I am a whore, no matter how much gold I have, she will always be a bastard to the men here. There is no happy marriage for her. Best she becomes a whore and take care of this whorehouse. At least then she won't be begging for a living."

Well, the whore does have a point. And, there goes my whole idea of having the girl kill the whore mother (eventually). But, I do want my Narcissa or at least a bit of variety in my death eater corps. So, I press on, "Well whore, you truly don't want your daughter to end up as a whore?"

"Are you offering to marry her my lord? Unless you are, I don't see much choice in her future. You northerners are not in the business of keeping mistresses are you?", mocked the whore.

With a frown, I replied, "Marry? No. What I can do is provide her a new life. A life where she won't have to whore herself out to anyone. If she proves herself, she can become one of my death eaters. A good life. All the power she would ever want."

Even the whore knows death eaters are powerful. Beating up the kingsguard brings that kind of infamy. Still she isn't sold and asks, "How do I know you aren't lying to me?"

"Why would I lie? I could have simply killed you and everyone else here. I have enough men for that. So, I am asking you, will you take a chance to see your daughter be something other then a whore?"

"If she goes with you, will I get to see her?" asked a concerned mother.

I got the bitch now. "Of course you will get to see her. Heck come to North if you wish. You might have heard about the Volcano town and how exotic whores are kept there? And you Chataya, are one hell of an exotic whore", I laugh.

With a more serious tone, I continue, "What I want is simple, I will make sure your daughter will never have to be a whore. In return, your whorehouse will be under my protection. You and your whores will report to my men. My soldiers here at Kings Landing will exclusively use your whorehouse – let's say you will have a significant increase of clients."

She looks thoughtful and says, "I can agree to that as long as you swear my daughter won't have to whore herself and she won't suffer. I also want a safe house in your mansion for my girls and myself – don't lie, we all know your mansion is as safe as the Red Keep."

The last one is an irritating demand but nothing impossible. After that, it was all about haggling on the details. Bothersome but trivial. By the end, I returned with a five year old Alayala as my newest ward and just like that, Bellatrix Black, formerly Maya Stone had a little sister.

 **Month 8, 287 AC, King's Landing**

This was my long awaited day. The day when I would answer Robert's slight against North (even if the slights were by my own design). Unlike the unreliable raven communication used by the muggles, I was in contact with my death eaters via. the dark mark. Instant communication. That was without counting apparition.

Just two week ago, I had apprated to White Harbor in guise of a death eater and green lighted the attack on Three Sisters. Numerous warships – both troop transports and attack ships, carried over 5,000 men to the island nominally in control of Vale. Given that everyone knew I was an honored guest of the king, I couldn't make an appearance, but I could walk around in the mask of a death eater.

It seemed that only now the fools here in King's Landing got the message of invasion. How did I know that? Jon Arryn plus a bunch of Vale Lords and their soldiers were at my front gate screaming bloody murder.

While my soldiers were getting ready to purge the filth, I walked to the balcony and taunted Arryn, "Oiee old man – what do you want? Don't you see I need to sleep? I am still a growing boy. Speak quick and be gone!"

Arryn then screams more, "Your savage North men invaded territory of the Vale! I am here to bring you to the court so that you can answer for your treason."

"What territory of the Vale? What treason? And if you aren't so blind, I have almost 200 archers here to shred you – how exactly do you intend to take me to the court?"

"The Island of three sisters. Don't pretend you didn't know boy. All that talk about North doesn't forget – you planned this from the very beginning", he barks even as all the other Vale men start looking nervous. The threat of my archer has them shaken.

"Well you see fool Arryn, one can't really invade their own land. As for what I planned, nothing grand. My only intent is to teach you all a lesson on why disrespecting North is a bad idea."

"Semantics won't save you this time boy – you are summoned to King Robert's court in exactly one hour. You will answer to your crime against the seven kingdoms", growled Jon Arryn before leaving along with the rest of the Vale men.

Well, time to give them a lesson in politics, dark lord style.


	7. Appendix-1

_AN: This appendix is mostly to keep myself in track. The whole damn story appears to be a bit convoluted._

 _My time line is a bit fudged. I was not sure when exactly Lyanna was kidnapped so, I decided to set her kidnapping during 281 AC. Unfortunately, when I started writing this fic, I hadn't factored all the timing in so, the first chapter and Voldemort's age might not line up perfectly. So, let's go with Voldemort being born sometimes 281 AC. His physical age is not all the important I suppose. Six year old, Seven year old – mentally he is a bad ass dark lord. As for those who want to see some lemon, it probably won't come for next five or six chapter. Even then, the idea of writing anything romantic between Voldemort and well, anyone really. Every single female character I can think of have a face associated and I simply don't have the heart to associate them with Voldie. Setting up Voldie as a romantic won't work. I am not going to write a rapist character – it just doesn't compute. We shall see – maybe a dark lady will come out. May be a passion of convenience. Who knows?_

 **Time line until now**

 **Mid 281 AC** – Rhaegar Targaryen abducts Lyanna Stark since dragon needs three heads. She does not put much fight because, this might be a way out from her betrothal with Robert. Also, she had just realized she was pregnant, thus dulling her senses. Being a virgin or at least believing herself to be a virgin, her pregnancy did not make much sense to her. While she did have a dream where, "a bunch of trees said how a wolf with snake's heart would make the North free again", it would not appease her fathers wrath. Absconding with the dragon seemed easier then running beyond the wall.

 **Early 282 AC** – Aerys burns Rickard Stark while his heir, Brandon strangles himself to death watch the spectacle.

 **Sometimes before end of 281 AC** – Lord Voldemort is born is, Lord Brandon "Voldemort" Stark, son of Lady Lyanna Stark, in the tower of joy while in captivity of the dragon prince. Lyanna hates both Robert and Rhaegar, she even sabotaged Rhaegar's armor to ensure his demise.

 **Month 10, 282 AC** – Ned Stark arrives to rescue his sister. His intention to take Voldemort as his bastard son and have Lyanna marry Robert is easily foiled by a bit of magic courtesy of Voldemort. Lyanna is the only one to realize this. Unlike regular muggle who might freakout at the obvious witchcraft, she is grateful. She even asks him about getting rid of Ned's Tully wife since her brother is in love with Ashara Dayne.

Ned and Lyanna concoct a story of how Lyanna died in tower of joy. Lyanna would assume the name of Miriam Stark _nee_ Slytherin, wife of late Brandon Stark, thus making Voldemort the lord of Winterfell and warden of North. As far as the world was concerned, she stayed hidden in crofters village since they were all afraid of what Aerys might do to Brandon's unborn heir. Hoster Tully's reaction was also to be used as her reason for hiding, after all Brandon did break his betrothal by marrying "Miriam Slytherin".

 **Month 12, 282 AC** – Courtesy of Voldemort's jinx, Catelyn Stark (Tully) dies in the most hilarious manner. She swallows a fork that tears open her throat and then her belly.

 **Month 7, 284 AC** – Voldemort is 3 years old and now meets the Northern Lords. All lords arrive in Winterfell for a meet-n-greet. When Umber attempts to insult the 3 year old Voldemort, the dark lord knifes him. It cements his position as the future lord of Winterfell, after all northerners do respect strength. Lyanna, who has grow a sadistic side a mile wide, is quick to remind them all not to disrespect her son.

 **Month 8, 284 AC** – Ned sails for Starfell to marry Ashara Dayne.

 **Month 5, 285 AC** – Voldemort miraculously finds plenty of silver, rubies and artistry abandoned in older dungeons. In reality he is using alchemy to create said items. Benjen, with those new found treasure, sails to the free cities and buys as much skilled slaves as he can. Masons, blacksmiths, shipwrights etc. Ned has already brought 100 unsullied when he went to free cities after marrying Ashara. The slaves are liberated once they arrive in the North but given that they won't have anywhere to go, they will obviously work for the Starks in return for generous compensation.

 **Month 8, 285 AC** – Volcano Town is completed. The newly freed slaves are all housed in said town. The town boasts plenty of green houses to feed the burgeoning population. Hidden amongst those green house are the herbology garden for Voldemort's potion supply. A canal connecting White Knife to Volcano Town was also completed. The water was used to generate steam, which would then be used to power furnace, heat the green house and so forth.

 **Month 1, 286 AC** – A whore house is started. Benjen brings plenty of exotic pleasure slaves (whores) from Lys. Voldemort intends to use them as broodmare. He knows North doesn't have enough population and by letting only healthy men visit the whore house, he can have a select bred of future generation loyal only to him. Unlike other nobles, he intends to let the whores go live as free women after they give birth to a few children. He is a dark lord, not a slave monger.

 **Month 2, 286** AC – Voldemort manages to set up magical wards on Winterfell using the crypts.

 **Month 6, 286** AC – North has changed a lot. The naval force assembled in White Harbor is enough to give the Royal Navy a pause. Vale is most troubled by that, especially when Lord Manderly demands a tribute for stopping pirates from attacking Vale trade-ships. The economic development is also a concern to Tywin Lannister. King Robert however, is alarmed by how all the beautiful Lysenes whores have been taken by the Northerner, and as such, decides to head North.

 **Month 1, 287** AC – King Robert visits Winterfell. His intentions are to fuck the exotic whores. The visit starts off in a bad taste when his horse is fried by lightning bolt courtesy of the wards. Ned's word of "Winterfell is yours", triggers Voldemort's temper and thus, the magical ward. Jason Snow, Voldemort's first death eater beats all of Roberts kings guard after the kingslayer starts an altercation.

In response, Robert orders Jaime "The Kingslayer" Lannister to be confined in the coldest dungeon there is. When Queen Cersei tries to protest, he publicly slaps her.

 **Month 3, 287** AC – King Robert's party stays in the North for almost 3 months. The stay is eventful for everyone involved. Queen Cersei and Lyanna get involved in a hushed love affair, resulting in Cersei's decision to indefinitely stay in Winterfell. Since no one except Voldemort knew of their forbidden affair, it is seen as the queen being exiled be the whoring king. Robert orders the incumbent lord paramount of the North to head south for him – the reasoning being, queen is staying in Winterfell, there should be some kind of collateral. The Northerners are angry but Voldemort calms them down. In reality, he has them prepare an army. None of the lords know what it is for but they are more then happy to comply, since if their liege lord were to be harmed, their army would quickly deal a decisive blow to those involved.

However, the most devastation result (at least to the casual viewer) of Robert's visit is death of a 10 southern knights and even more important, Lord-Commander of Kingsguard, Ser Barristan by fall into the Volcano. Voldie used that to ward the town but then no one would really know about that.

 **Month 5-6, 287** AC – Lord Voldemort and the King's party arrives in King's Landing. Ser Orys Oakheart is the new Lord Commander. Voldie brought 2 death eaters and a hundred soldiers with him. Another 100 soldiers were sneaked in via ship. He also grabbed a mansion on top of a cliff near the Red Keep, a mansion which was quickly warded and fortified.

Voldemort marked his arrival by humiliating every single one of the king's small council, focusing on Jon Arryn in particular. He won the right to call Arryn whatever name he wanted when the old man attempted to force him into a trial by combat.

Baelish was another focus of Voldemort's ire. Voldemort found Baelish when he was in the process of attempting to whore out Mya Stone, eldest bastard child of Robert. After witnessing Mya's ferocity, he renamed her as Bellatrix Black and recruited her to be one of his future DEs. In an act of vengeance, Mya tortured Baelish. Baelish's wounds were healed by Voldemort in such a fashion that the phantom pain would last for a long time.

In order to torment Robert, he threatens to send a letter to Iron Bank stating that the North won't support any more loans. He went far enough to state he might persuade the other great house to do the same.

Voldemort also enters in a tentative alliance with Tywin Lannister. The old lion is especially grateful after the Northman frees Jaime from the vows as Kingsguard. The two also install Kevan Lannister as Master of Law by removing Renly from said position. However, given his position as an observer in small council, Voldemort incites everyone in believing that Robert will remove Stannis as the two never liked each other. The goal being tormenting Stannis for a bit but breaking Renly's expectation.

Tywin also loans a full third of Westerland navy to the North for three years, as long as they were not to go against the Lannister interest and their upkeep done by Winterfell. Once Voldemort pointed out how Tywin's navy was doing thing but berthed, the old lion happily agreed as long as he got enough shipment of ironwood. Neither party would realize how lucky the got with this deal in the near future given Balon Greyjoys ambitions.

Voldemort also gets a concession to open a trading outpost in Westerland. His idea is to start a military base in the guise of traders outpost.

 **Month 6-8, 287** AC – Voldemort continues to antagonize Jon Arryn some more. He starts giving the old fool some indication of coming attack against the Vale. Baelish continues to be in perpetual pain. Varys is confused since he is not getting any intel regarding either the Stark or the Lannister party in Kings landing. Given how both parties hate the dragons, his long term plans to bring the Targs back seems to be in jeopardy.

In a public court hearing, Renly's dismissal as Master of Law is announced. Stannis relief is palpable all over his face. As for the rest of council, Roberts proclamation comes as a shock. Kevan Lannister is the new Master of Laws.

Voldemort has slowly consolidated control over most whorehouses in Kings landing, thus establishing an excellent spy network. After a talk with Chattaya, he takes her daughter Alayala to be Narcissa Black. Chattaya is happy with the arrangement since her daughter won't have to be a whore.

 **Month 8, 287 AC** – Voldemort is summoned to the court by an angry Jon Arryn. As per his initial orders, Northern army and navy that was being assembled after his forced sojourn to kings landing, invaded island of three sisters almost two months ago. Voldemort believes it is a justified attack since the islands have always belonged to the North.


	8. Attacking the Vale - Screw the Courts

AN: Ned and Ashara have 3 kids, eldest Arthur (after Arthur Dayne), Arya and Rickon. I don't particularly like the other Stark kids. Robb is an idiot. Sansa is a complete airhead. Bran is well, bland I suppose. Voldie/Melisandre pairing might be an option except that Voldemort is liable to crucio her for being an incompetent witch. The Stark family story won't come until chapter 10. After that you might see some family drama instead of our friendly neighborhood dark lord fucking with his neighbors.

My updates are random because once I start writing and get in the zone, I tend to forget about the most important part - posting them. The next two or three chapters are mainly nullifying the Vale and finally Iron Island. Voldemort is taking a page out of good ole U.S of A.

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 **Table of Contents**

Month 7 or 8, 287AC Northern Attack Fleet, en-route to the Islands of Three Sisters 1

Month 8, Kings Landing, Robert's Court (Neutral POV) 2

Kings Landing, Lord Voldemort POV 6

Dinner with Lannisters 7

Zero Dark Thirty, right after dinner with Lannisters 9

2 Weeks Later, Greywater Watch, Neutral POV 10

 **Month 7 or 8, 287AC Northern Attack Fleet, en-route to the Islands of Three Sisters**

The fleet heading towards the island of Three Sisters was the largest Northern fleet ever assembled ever since the destruction of last Northen fleet by Brandon the burner. The fleet as composed of numerous fast attack galleys designed to quickly board enemy craft, their support ships bristling with ballistas and scorpios meant to bring down targets and finally, the bulk of ships – massive troop transports. Within weeks, the fleet would reach the islands and drop around 10,000 angry, screaming Northern soldiers.

The fleet was being lead by joint collation of Northern Lords – Lord Manderly being in nominal command of the whole fleet, since he was the only North man who was experienced in large scale fleet operations. Despite the individual Northern Lords being in command, everyone knew who the top dog was – 7 dark clad figures, otherwise known as Death Eaters, were in command of the whole fleet. Their authority being warranted by the master of North himself. Out of 10 death eaters available to Lord Voldemort, 2 were with him in King's Landing, 1 was left behind in Winterfell to continue the training of new recruits and the remaining six were running the attack.

Soon enough, the fleet entered the territorial waters of Three Sisters – the attack ships and their support elements stayed behind to maintain blockade and prevent any escape, while the troop transports surged forwards to unload the troops. Each island - Sweetsister, Longsister, and Littlesister, received almost 3,000 Northern soldiers.

A pair of death eater lead the attack on each of those island and gave the speech Lord Voldemort had previously readied, " _A Winter King from time long lost once said, Wars come and go, but my soldiers stay eternal. We_ _are soldiers of the North. This is war. We_ _will stay_ _eternal. Each of us_ _have been equipped with the best weapon there is. The best training possible. Do the North Proud. After all, we are eternal and death itself shall tremble before our might. Now, there is some killing to do and time is wasting!_ " [Voldemort is into plagiarism too – the quote is by 2Pac if anyone recognizes]

The three islands are each controlled by House Borrell, Longthrope and Torrent respectively. All three houses are collectively sworn to House Sunderland (town of Sisterton, island of Sweetsister), which in turn owes its allegiance to the Arryn of Vale. The death eater leading the attack on the islands knew what their primary objective was – Cut of the head of snake.

Informants, mainly merchants and some servants, paid by House Manderly had provided the inner working of the islands to the Northern forces months in advance. Anything more was taken care by Lord Voldemort – a bit of scrying spell had provided his death eaters all relevant strategic information. It meant the troops knew where they were going and what was waiting for them.

The attack was anti-climatic. Given how well informed the attackers were, defending troops were swept aside as if they were nothing. The introduction of fast attack ships for boarding and their heavier support ships which would simply fire barrage of ballistas/scorpio bolts on enemy ships meant the naval defense of the islands were sunk without warning.

The end result was the capture of Lord Godric Borrell (an ugly, fleshy man) and his family, House Torrent with everyone intact – their smuggler roots meant they didn't fight when faced with superior force, complete destruction of House Longthrope and House Sunderland. Longthrope were simply victim of bad luck – during the battle, their keep ended up ablaze and died of smoke inhalation. House Sunderland, however died by being stupid. Lord Sunderland decided to mock and then throw a pot of hot water at the death eater demanding his surrender. Needless to say, the death eater decided to cut everyone done by himself.

Vale wouldn't know about the retaking of Three Sisters by the North for almost a month since the Northern fleet was actively blocking the sea lanes and the troops had killed or captured all ravens. They would know what happened only after Lord Manderly sent a raven to the Eyrie proclaiming, "North took back what was once stolen". By then, it would be too late.

Month 8, Kings Landing, Robert's Court (Neutral POV)

The court was packed – every noble in King's landing had squeezed there way in to see the downfall of Stark Lord. Lannisters were there for the sheer morbid curiosity – Tywin had been stumped by Voldemort's cryptic response on the subject of north's response to its lord being held hostage. Baratheons were there for the hell of it. Vale lords (mostly Jon Arryn's retinue) were there to get answers. Everyone else simply wanted to see the show.

Unlike his first court appearance, Lord Voldemort was there right on time. But, just like then, he came with a swarm of his soldiers. And it seemed, he brought even more soldiers. The few lords there were – those with a tactical military mind quickly understood the situation. No matter what decision the court were to make, Lord Voldemort was walking away scoot-free. If the king or Jon Arryn were to do anything against him, the Northern soldiers would happily slaughter the entire court.

Even before Voldemort could be seated, Arryn spoke out loud, "Lord Voldemort! What is the meaning of this? You are here for a trail. You are to be judged for treason. Why did you bring your soldiers in?" Then the poor man sees how Voldemort's soldiers have positioned themselves all over the balcony and more importantly, that they have barricaded the public door – the public door from where gold cloaks could enter.

Lazily, Voldemort answered, "Didn't I tell you that no Stark shall ever suffer here in the King's Landing ever again? Are you so addled that you forgot such important conversation?"

Before Jon Arryn could reply, Varys asks in his sugary tone, "Pardon me my lord, do you truly believe you will be harmed here in the Red Keep?"

"The King's hand has summoned me for a trial, hasn't he? And trial usual means execution", snarked Voldemort.

Arryn gave a pained scowl and said, "Despite being a horrid child, Lord Brandon Stark, you are still a child. We are not in the business of killing children."

Voldemort smiles and says, "Of course Lord Weakling, you and your charge are in the business of laughing at dead children. Too weak to kill those children yourself, aren't you?" The court room is filled with a pained silence and is once again penetrated by Lord Voldemort, "Well, now that our pre-battle talk is done, where shall I, the accused be seated? Or are you all so inconsiderate that this Northerner will have to go and bring his own chair?"

Slight laughter breaks out when Arryn points to a rusty chair, "There is your throne Lord Voldemort. You shall sit where every criminal has sat."

Lord Voldemort, who so far had maintained a joyful expression, gives a dark look and whispered into his death eater. Just like that, Voldemort's immediate guard started to clear out the frontal section of court. Instead of asking the noblemen to vacate their chair, the soldiers simply threw them off. As pandemonium breaks out, Arryn roared, "Order, order – Lord Voldemort, what is the meaning of this?"

"Well Vale man, you attempted to seat the Master of North on such a horrible chair, and as such, a bit of corrective action was required. Now, I have a clear area to sit and look, some of these noblemen as foot stool too! This man – looks like a knight of House Arryn, he shall be my foot stool for the duration of this trial."

The poor bastard was quickly forced sit on his hunches via a vicious kick courtesy of an unnamed soldier. His breastplate showing the falcon of House Arryn was visible to all for a single moment until Voldemort carelessly landed his foot. Arryn, as usual spluttered into rage, more to how his house was being insulted then the fate of the poor bastard.

While everyone were muttering about the mockery of court at the hand of Lord Voldemort, the northerner was getting ready to yell some more. "Why the buggering hell I am here this early? Arryn, you said the trial was supposed to have been started an hour ago but the King hasn't deigned to show up. Does he even know there is a trial be held? Does the man know his best friend's nephew is being held as criminal? Or are you simply abusing your position as King's hand?"

The last comment from Voldemort gave rise to more muttering, forcing Arryn to bang his desk some more. "His Grace ordered this trail and if you know what is good for yourselves, you will keep your mouth shut", he yelled.

Right then, King Robert swaggered in from the antechamber, the court scribe announcing his various titles. "That is quiet enough you fool", the king scolded the scribe and then addressed Arryn, "And Jon, this whole trial was your idea not mine. I would rather have North and Vale settle their difference on their own without me getting involved. You wanted the boy to be punished – don't you dare drag me in. Lets get this over with."

After that, Arryn started to droll on about the unjust war brought by North on the Vale by attacking the Three Sisters. Unprovoked attack. Treason. Every word was thrown around.

However, Lord Voldemort was unconcerned. It seemed he was playing a game of chyvase with his soldiers. Finally, Arryn stopped and asked, "Well, do you have anything to say Lord Voldemort?"

"I do have something to say Thief. The thieves from Vale stole something from North 3,000 years ago. The thieves forgot about it. They decided that after 3,000 years, that thievery was not thievery anymore. What the thieves did not realize that North never forgets. North always remembers. So, here we are. 3000 years in the future. North has decided to retake what was once its. And the thief cries like always. That is all I have to say."

"Thief? You are accusing Vale of being thief?" shouted some unknown Vale man.

"Of course I am. Three Sisters have always been a part of North. 3,000 years ago, thieves residing in Vale stole it from us, now we are taking it back. It is rather simple – anyone here have an issue with North taking back what has always been its?" growled Voldemort with eyes that reflected malice.

Arryn is the only one to speak, "The matter was settled 3,000 years ago Lord Stark. There was no need to bring this up now. Even then, you could have brought this in civilized fashion instead of attacking the islands".

Lord Voldemort gave a wide smile to Arryn and said, "Thieves might have considered it settled but North never did old man. As for doing this in a civilized fashion, I have an idea. Would you like to hear it?"

Arryn once again grinds his teeth and says, "As you wish, what idea would it be?"

"Well, Vale kept those islands illegally for three thousand islands. Vale profited from it. Vale got rich from those island. So, we want those riches – give those profits to us or we shall take those riches from them ourselves."

"Are you threatening us?", screeched Lysa Arryn.

"You must be Lysa Arryn born Tully. North has no need to threaten anyone. Or, do you not remember what the old gods did when your worthless Father forced my uncle to an agreement he did not want?"

While Lysa had an ashen face, the everyone else broke into muffled snigger, except Robert that is. The drunk king had a full blown laughter, "The trout swallowed a fork and tore her throat, didn't she?"

Jon Arryn, desperate to save face given the Tullys were his in-laws, spoke up, "Please your grace, it was an unfortunate accident, there was no god or anything in it."

To everyone's surprise, Stannis Baratheon broke his surprise with, "Well my lord, how exactly does one _accidentally_ swallow a fork? You would have to be either a complete idiot or cursed by the gods. I doubt the daughter of Hoster Tully was an idiot."

Kevan Lannister, despite the smirk playing in his face, brought the proceeding back where it should be, "Well my lords, regardless of whether the old cursed the Tully line or not, no matter what evidence we have, that is not why we are here. We are here to determine whether the Northern move on the Three Sister is valid or not. And then there is the issue of reparations demanded by Lord Voldemort about the illegal seizure of those island by Vale over 3,000 years ago. That needs to be determined, not how Tully line has been cursed or how the Vale might be cursed by the old gods."

You gotta give it to the Lannisters, in a single statement he brought the court proceedings to the right track and at the same time, stated Tullys were cursed. Westerlands and Riverrlands were in a state of perpetual border dispute, no wonder they would jump at any opportunity to discredit one another.

Voldemort quickly went with the flow, "The master of law is right. The discussion is deviating to things that do not need to be said. The only thing that needs to be said is how the Vale will recompense the North for the illegal seizure of Three Sisters."

Arryn fires back, "Recompense? Your men killed, maimed or otherwise mutilated many Vale men – soldiers and merchants alike, that were on those islands. And, you want compensation?"

With a grin, Voldemort bangs his table, "Exactly – we want compensation. Those men were present unlawfully and so, we killed them as per our custom. Now, I am sure none of the other kingdoms wish to go to war over this matter, am I right?" The last portion was directed towards the audience.

Tyrion Lannister is the first one to quip, "Aye, we have no interest in going to war against North on behalf of the Vale, when the whole thing has no true consequence to the stability of Seven Kingdoms."

Just like that, the representative from Reach spoke up, "True – Reach shall not support any war against North. As long as this regional dispute doesn't spill over the seven kingdoms, Vale is on its own."

Lysa Arryn was about to screech how Riverrlands would support the Vale when one of the Tully knights shouted, "My Lords, Lord Tully shall be neutral in this episode". Tully was being smart – sending his force towards Vale would leave him open to the Lannisters.

The representative from Dorne spoke in a bored tone, "Prince Doran doesn't really care what any of your kingdom do, as long as you don't march towards Dorne, we are happy to let you be."

Robert then happily proclaims, "Well Jon, there you have it. Those islands never really belonged to Vale anyway, so no need to be angry over it. Figure out how to settle the 3,000 years of compensation our young lord is insisting and let us be done with all this. I need to go find some whores – Baelish! Lets get going, whoring and drinking, here I come!"

As Robert left, the Vale men adopt a defeated persona. Arryn gives a venomous look to Lord Voldemort and asks, "What kind of compensation are you asking?"

"Not much really. Those Island make about a thousand dragons every year in profit given how poorly you fools have managed it. So, we figure over the last 3,000 years, you must have made 3 million gold dragons. We are being generous and asking for 1 and a half million gold dragon, nothing more."

"A million and a half gold dragon? Are you mad? That is 10 times the amount of Eyrie's treasury", yelled Arryn.

"That is the truth Arryn. Be glad I am not asking for the whole amount", growled Voldemort.

"Well, you won't have it. Do what you want – it might just mean a war between Vale and North", shouted Arryn.

"So be it Arryn. We are going to carve a juicy piece out of Vale and take it for North. Challenge us on it and the God's shall bring down your precious Eyrie. Just ask your ugly wife how much Catelyn Tully suffered before she died, all because her Father caused my aunt's death. And Arryn, unlike you Vale men, we aren't greedy – just a small settlement, a village even shall be enough for us. Either way, the Vale will remember Northern Fury for the next 3,000 years and more.", proclaimed Lord Voldemort.

As Jon Arryn and the rest of Vale Lords watched him in complete silence, Voldemort turned around and the left the court, a conglomeration of confused, fearful and somewhat impressed Lords. Northern Fury indeed.

 **Kings Landing, Lord Voldemort POV**

Well, the whole court proceeding was much much humorous. The facial expression of Vale denizens upon hearing my declaration about exacting more retribution was more then satisfying. I imagine there would be ravens flying towards their respective keeps about impending Northern attack and the need to fortify the coastal location near the Northern shores – possibly around the Bite, perhaps as far as the Fingers. What these cretins did not know was that I had my eyes set on a far important target. The Bite was useless in both strategic and economic sense. The Fingers was the same story. Maybe a bit of economic value and a way to torment Baelish given how Baelish Keep was right at the Fingers, but the real prize was Runestone or even better, Gulltown. Taking Gulltown would give me complete control over Bay of Crabs.

If possible, I was going to take the whole damn place – the tiny piece of land jutting out would give me Gulltown (and Bay of Crabs) on the South and Runestone (controlled by House Royce, blood of first men facing the fingers towards North). Maybe I could subvert House Royce for the North – I might be able to sell the whole andals vs. first men to them. After that, I would be able to collapse the whole economy of Vale if I were so inclined. However, the most important point was that the might of Vale would be focused on the far south towards Gulltown. The mountain tribe, every single one of them the blood of first men (no matter how savage they were), were heavily concentrated on the North side of Vale, around the Bite and also the Fingers. So, with Vale knights and lords looking south, Northern force would silently smuggle weapons and even more, weapon trainer for the tribes. Within a few years, the Vale would be in a state of full blown of civil war. Vale Lords would never be able to dedicate their full might towards the mountain tribe because of their constant fear that Northern army stationed in the Gulltown area would initiate an invasion. A catch-22 if there ever. I win. Times like these, strategic game was much more fun then direct action that I did back in Earth.

As I walked towards my mansion, a messenger without any house affiliation passed a piece of parchment. It was a dinner invitation by the Lannisters. Apparently, the lions were the first to sense where the wind was blowing and were keen to take advantage of the changing climate. Just like how the selfish muggle politicians took advantage of the whole global warming fiasco. What all you filthy muggles do not know is that global warming almost caused a number of magical fauna to go extinct, if it hadn't been for my actions, that would have been the case. One of the reason why the average wizard didn't give a rats ass when I started sending muggle world to the dark ages. Even the muggle borns didn't object much after they learned how much pollution was hurting magical plants and in turn, raising price of potions. Economics, that is the key.

 **Dinner with Lannisters**

Tywin Lannister hadn't wasted time trying to copying my security model. His mansion was surrounded by a moat and brimming with soldiers. Almost as if the old man was getting ready for an invasion. Well, a bit of paranoia never hurts anyone – no the paranoid one anyway.

Dinner started off easy, no rush, a lavish affair no matter what. It was Tyrion who broke the idle chit-chat and drove the conversation towards more serious matter, "My Lord, I congratulate for delivering a mighty blow to the Vale. The falcons and their retainers were getting a bit too jumped up lately – your did put them in their place."

Before I could say anything, Tywin spoke up, "Well, let us not be too hasty. They are yet to retaliate – given how the Vale lacks any significant navel strength, they might attack through land, perhaps through the Neck?"

"Do you truly believe the Vale lords to be that idiotic Lord Tywin?", I asked.

"More like pride. But again, pride and idiocy goes hand in hand."

Jaime Lannister interjected, "Father, no army has crossed the Neck in the last eight thousand years. Vale's strength lies in its Knights. The idea of heavy cavalry crossing the swamps is simply ridiculous."

I gave a thankful node towards both of them, "My friends, you are both right. I should get ready for an attack through the Neck. The idea of heavy cavalry crossing the swamps is ridiculous, but they can still inflict damage on the crannogmen. I will not have my bannermen suffer needlessly. Thank you for bringing this to my attention – seems I got too arrogant and ignored basic human arrogance."

And, that was the truth. I focused so much on the bigger strategic situation that I ignored how prideful these Vale muggles were. No matter, it would be their undoing. If their strength were to be curtailed in that pointless attack, taking the Gulltown would be even easier.

Tywin gave a smile and, "Not to worry my northern friend, we all loose sight once in a while. It happens."

Tyrion on the other hand, gave a grin and laughed, "Well, it will be good for your next objective won't it?" At my sly smirk and the other two lions inquisitive glance, the dwarf explained, "The lord here is planning to take a nice chunk out of Vale – since the fools will bled themselves dry with this failed attack, Lord Voldemort's next attack will face less resistance. Good for the North, bad for Vale."

Jaime gave a deep laugh and Tywin hypothesized, "Am I right to assume that your attack is not going to anywhere near the Bit? You will probably take the Baelish Keep and control the Fingers. Near enough to send reinforcement if needed and also, gives you a direct route to the Eyrie if it comes to complete war."

Instead of confirming his theory, I just raised my glass and said, "Bravo lion of the rock. Either way, Vale will suffer. North will gain, but what about my new lion friends? After all, it would be terribly selfish of me to not let my friends high and dry, eh?"

With a shark like grin, Tyrion responds, "Well, Vale is too far from us for a direct economic gain. We will get some trade benefit given how their export will suffer. But, our target is Riverrun. I have a bone to pick with Hoster Tully. The bastard tried to make a match between Jaime and Lysa. Only now I found Lysa was sullied a long time ago – Trout tries to match dirtied fish with my brother? Unacceptable!" By this, the little man is rather angry. Tywin was somewhat impressed. As for me, I was somewhat surprised to how much the imp cared for his brother or more importantly, the virtue of this brother's wife? This whole virginity thing is a myth to be honest – stories might tell you things on how virgin blood is useful for rituals and such, but take it from the dark lord who has performed every ritual in existence, none of them call for virgin blood. Blood is blood, ancestor matters in some but that is it.

"Well, the imp is right for once in his miserable life. Tullys have it long coming", snarked Tywin.

Jaime asks the sensible question, "Well father, how exactly do you intend to attack the Tullys without inciting the wrath of crown?"

It was then where I interject, "Why not provoke Hoster Tully to provide support to the Vale?"

Tyrion asks, "And that helps us how?"

"Easy. Hoster's action will be against the sworn statement his representative gave in front of the crown. Also, your daughter is an honored guest of the North, as such it is your sacred duty to support her protectors. After that, your actions are easily explained."

Tywin gets a cruel gleam in his eyes and then muses, to himself mostly, "I suppose we will start rumors on how Hoster is being a coward and not helping his own son in law. Once the rumor reaches sufficient ears, Tully will be forced to act."

As we watch, the old man's voice gets stronger and takes a more commanding tone, "Tyrion – you will stay here in kings landing and do what you do best. Rumor mongering and keeping the king happy. Two of you are cut with the same cloth – have fun whoring. Jaime, you and I will set off towards the Rock in two days. I am leaving 500 men with Tyrion, have Kevan integrated them into the gold cloaks."

He looks towards me, somewhat contrite and says, "My Lord – Thank you for your support. The resources Rock are at your disposal. But, I am sure you do have your own planning to do and if there is nothing for us, we should call it a night?"

I again get an itch to crucio this arrogant muggle for this abrupt dismissal but, his cause is just – we both have things to do, and time is waiting. I do not have a time turner after all. But, just to put him in his place, I respond sharply, "Aye – we both have things to do. I am leaving this shithole early tomorrow. Vale is to bleed, and I want to witness that. If you need to reach me, contact here at Kings Landing. My people can forward the mail wherever I am. That said, my trading fleet will arrive at Lannisport within next two weeks. That will not be a problem, I assume?"

Tyrion is the one to reply with, "Of course not, a location has already been set for your tradesmen. It is a bit outside the city as you requested but your men are free to set things up as needed." I had added a bit of compulsion on all the Lannister to give me an area reasonably close to the seas and also, with enough altitude that a conventional siege would be almost impossible. They didn't really need to know that, did they?

 **Zero Dark Thirty, right after dinner with Lannisters**

My departure from Kings Landing was scheduled to be in less then six hours – the sun would be up at six in the morning and I wanted to be gone by first light. However, before doing that, there was one thing that had to be done. The poor excuse of alchemist here in Westeros had to be taken care. Alchemy was the art of understanding life – elixir of life and for the more financially inclined, convert metal to gold. Muggle alchemist were responsible for the advancement for muggle chemistry and thus, their society. Magical alchemist achieved what was supposed to be impossible – eternal life. The doddering fools here were an insult to this noble art. I was obviously not going to stand such insult.

So, I apparated to the alchemist guild and started transfiguring every available alchemist into clay figurine. I knew well enough that no matter how useless they were, they still had some knowledge. I wanted that knowledge before disposing the garbage. Their vaunted wild fire was nothing but basic fire potion that any first year could produce. That said, the might know something. A quick summoning spell made sure every valuable they had was packed into my bottomless bag, which did have fire suppression charm. The men in Winterfell could go through it at their leisure.

After that, I spent a few more hours making sure my wards around the mansion were working perfectly – couldn't afford for them to fail when I was gone. A single death eater and the force which initially accompanied me were left behind in King's Landing while I and the other death eater set off for the Neck. We had to get ready for the impending attack by the Vale knights.

Personally, I would have preferred to simply apparate to Greywater Watch instead of wasting my time in the lengthy journey, but since I couldn't really show magic to the world yet, I had to pretend that we did a long, tiring journey. Just to be safe, I sent alert to my death eaters and Lord Reed about possible incursion via. the Neck and so, the entry point would already be ready for the enemy. As for myself and the DE accompanying me, we apparated from King's Landing to the castle of Riverrun, incognito. A bit of compulsion spell and Hoster Tully was all set to send troops against the North. But, he would be sending his troops to join the troops of Vale instead of making an independent incursion. An independent incursion from near the Twins would have caused me to divide my force in two half, thus increasing Northern casualties. Now that they were all coming together, it would be a much easier fight. A single trap for a large army. More importantly, since Hoster's troops would be moving towards Vale, the Vale Knights would have to wait for almost a month before initiating their march, which meant my soldiers would have extra time to prepare the traps. Good for me. Bad for them. Extra bad.

 **2 Weeks Later, Greywater Watch, Neutral POV**

House Reed was ready for war. But again, Reed's were always at war. With the swamp. With the occasional Freys that dared hunt in their territory. With the disease that came and went. This war would be a bit different. A bit like the war they fought some 10 years ago but more like a continuation of a war that was fought 3,000 years ago.

Howland Reed was the only man (not of Stark blood) who knew the truth about Lord Voldemort's origin. Initially he thought the boy might have dragon's blood but Lyanna's word was good enough for him. He did see how the Dragon prince fought against Robert and knew Lyanna had damaged both the prince and his armor. Her story about the boy not having a father sounded far-fetched, however Reed's had a curious sensitivity to magic and the boy was filled with magic. So, given how the boy was completely Stark in appearance and full of magic, Howland Reed was willing to believe Lyanna's claim. He owed the girl far too much anyway.

And now, he was glad for Lord Voldemort. Ned Stark would have made a fine Lord Stark but Ned was not a real wolf, not like Voldemort. Ned did not have the killer instinct required to make North great. More importantly, his instincts had not been honed. Being a direwolf meant having your instincts trained, sharpened like a fined blade. Unfortunately, he was sent to Vale and his training fell short. Howland knew but again, he was just a crannogman, no one would believe him, not the former Lord Stark, not even Ned since he was too enthralled with Arryn. At least Lord Voldemort was not blinded by the Arryns and was teaching the southerners a lesson. The words spoken by one of the death eaters during the invasion of three sister had made it's way all over the North, " _Wars come and go, but my soldiers stay eternal_ ". Ironic and soothing.

As much as he liked how Vale was being humiliated, he knew it would not go unanswered. The Vale Knights would attempt attack North through the Neck and his crannogmen would have to bear the burnt of it. The natural defense would hold but it didn't mean there would not be death on his side. Initially, he was afraid there would not be any reinforcement coming from Winterfell but, apparently, the resurgent Lord of North, who many Northerners had secretly started calling the Winter King, had anticipated such possibility. As such, he received a raven from Winterfell saying Lady Lyanna herself was bringing a party of 2,000 men with her. It would take almost a month for them to arrive, but better late then never.

Then, without warning whatsoever, the lord himself arrived right at the doorsteps of Greywater Watch. "How did he find his way through the swamp right into my keep, without anyone noticing? Greywater Watch is not supposed to be found by those who are not crannogmen but Lord Voldemort had no trouble. Is the magic in him truly that strong?", Howland debated internally.

Instead of asking all the troubling questions, Howland simply dropped to his knees, "My Lord Voldemort, welcome to Greywater Watch. Our hospitality and sword are yours."

"Thank you Lord Reed. It has been a tiresome journey but a nice northern dinner alongside a proper Northern family should wash out all the strain and more importantly, the stink they call Kings Landing", delivered Lord Voldemort in a light tone. The last portion seemed to be derisive against the southerners.

Slight laughter went around the room at his quip against the South and Howland remarked, "Well my lord, we did not have any knowledge of you coming or we might have started a proper feast.."

"Forget about the feast Lord Reed, I need a simple a northern meal after being stuffed in Kings Landing for so long. And, once we are done with our meal, I would like to talk with you about the situation with Vale", sounded Lord Voldemort.

"Of course. For now, I believe a warm meal awaits you my lord", stated a happy Lord Reed. Howland was content – his liege lord seemed down to earth and hadn't changed due to the southern stay.


	9. Attack Attack Attack

_AN:_

 _Rangle:_ _Cuddly Voldie? Hahaha – I suppose you could say that. Got tired with the somewhat weak, nice-guy Harry Potter turning into an ass kicking Rambo-esque character that everyone keeps portraying. So, why not do things the other way? Change the evil Voldie into a Cuddly Dark Lord? Think Doctor Evil for a bit. Should I have him demand one hundred billion gold dragons from the Vale for illegal occupation of what had always been Northern territory?_

 _And yeah, messing with Ned's head is akin to hurting him. But, for now let's go with Voldie can't hurt those with blood of first men (magical blood) in general, Starks in particular without a good reason. In the first chapter, good-old Ned wanted to declare Voldie as a bastard and force Voldie's mother to marry a drunken lout. Well, Voldie couldn't have that obviously. After all, a bastard won't be able to legitimately gain power in Westeros, not without a lot of work. Then, factor in the fact that Voldemort is all about shortcuts and forcing his will. At least he didn't AK the honorable fool. The other reason I had to have Voldie fuck with Ned's brain was that having a crazy, cannon Voldie Snow would be no different then Ramsay Snow on steroid. Ramsay is sickeningly fascinating but writing with him as main character? Might keep him as Voldie's chief torturer though. For now, Voldemort won't be able to throw crucios around like candies or throw temper tantrums - against those who have magical blood anyway. Eventually, he might be able to overcome it but by then, he will be a somewhat well rounded character._

 _As for DD (as in 36?) the anonymous dude who has rightfully declared my grammar to be like vomit. Well, don't really give a rats ass – I am not a grammar fanatic, write as if I were talking when high and can't really be dicked with editing the whole damn thing on my shitty 11" laptop. You might donate me enough cash to buy a pair of 24" dual screen and yeah, I might decide to write professionally, but even then, well you chose to read this damn thing didn't you? You oughta be glad I am not writing everything flexing southern (as in Confederacy, southern United States) accent, then you might have had an aneurysm._

 _As the story goes by, I am finding out more tiny plotholes and hilarious aspects of this story. Perhaps someday, I might compile them all and post them into the first chapter as a way to warn newcomers? Any thoughts on that? Wish this was more like hpfanficarchive. At least there you can have a landing page with all your chapter list and even a huge summary page. But, we gotta make do with what we have._

 _JackTheLad: Great Ideas – a whole new meaning to brain washing plus Great Wall of the North. I will probably include them soon._

 _Elquenodebesernombrado: Boltons are being handled._

* * *

 **Table of Contents**

Month 9, 287 AC, Greywater Watch (Neutral POV) 2

Command Tent, Voldemort's POV 3

Conflict in the swamp 7

Moat Cailin, Meeting between various Lords, POV Voldemort 7

Month 10, 287 AC, Neutral POV 10

Arryn's dilemma 10

Internal thoughts of a random Mountain Man 10

Tywin Lannister 10

A random Riverland lord 12

Lord Jason Mallister, Seagard 12

Month 11, 287 AC, Lord Voldemort POV, location Island of Little Sister 13

Month 12, 287 AC, Neutral POV 15

The Fate of Freys 16

* * *

 **Month 9, 287 AC, Greywater Watch (Neutral POV)**

The meeting between Lord Voldemort, Howland Reed and Reed's commanders concluded in most satisfying manner for all parties involved. Voldemort found that the crannogmen had magical potential and all he would have to do was perform some spell and feed them the right potion. The crannogmen, to their delight found their liege lord truly valued them – not just for their martial abilities, but also as people. There was no disdain from Lord Voldemort when he was presented with the food that crannogmen themselves ate. A test by Howland Reed if you will. Voldemort simply ate the food that most non-crannogmen would consider less then dirt, without any complain. No one, not even Ned Stark had done so.

However, what won their respect was when he asked Howland to call him "Tom" - according to the rumors prevalent in North, no one, save family was allowed to address Lord Voldemort by his name. Whether his given name, Brandon, his moniker, Lord Voldemort or his familial name Tom. They didn't understand the camaraderie between Howland and Voldemort, but it was welcome no matter what.

After that, it was just a matter of waiting for the arrival for men dispatched from Winterfell. Plenty of crannogmen saw that as a questioning of their martial ability – they didn't need any help to hold off some southern knight that played at war. That was when Voldemort raged. With his death eater standing behind him and his two young wards, Bellatrix Black and Narcissa Black, the angry lord thundered, "No one questions your ability to hold off a thousand knightly fools. But, how many of you will die in the swaps? A hundred? Two hundred?" When one of the more brass soldier responded, "Sounds like a good trade off – a hundred dead for thousands of there", Voldemort quickly put him down with, "Howland, you have been cultivating fools here I think. The southerners have plenty of fools to throw at us but we don't have the numbers to waste. Each of the southern kingdom can field more then 30 thousand men but do you know how many men we can raise?"

Howland looked contrite and said, "The best we can do at this moment is 25,000 and we are half the size of Westeros combined. We are almost six times the size of any of those kingdoms and still, we raise less men then them."

"Exactly, they can afford to loose men but we can't. Vale is mustering upwards of 5,000 knights. Riverland will probably send the same number of levies with them. The might of crannogmen combined will definitely be able to wipe them out but, how many of you won't come home? How many women will be widowed? How many children be orphaned? Perhaps everyone will sing songs of how crannogmen killed 10,000 knights while losing only a thousand or so of theirs but remember one thing men – it is the living who pay the price of dead. I won't have my subjects pay that price if I can help it. You will accept the help of soldiers from Winterfell and then come home to your wives and children – a live and victorious. Do you understand me?"

A number of happy crannogmen thundered, "Aye"

After that, it was a flurry of constant activity. Curiously, it was the women who prepared the poison for their men. And, the men applied the poison on their darts, bows, spears and every weapon they could think of. Centuries of living in the swamp had taught them one thing – they had to use every thing for victory. No weapon was off limit. No tactic was too brutual.

Voldemort's wards were running around learning everything they could. It seemed the crannog's didn't adhere to the belief of women not being trained with weapon and the girls were taking full advantage of that. Bella hung out training with swords and knives, while Cissi spent her time learning the poisons.

It was during this hour the Winterfell contingent lead by Lyanna (known as Miriam Stark, mother of Lord Voldemort) arrived. As it turns out, Lady Stark had beaten the men into being respectful towards the crannogmen and their way, thus there being minimal problem between the two distinct group.

The arrival also showcased Voldemort's childish, immature side to the world for the first time. Everyone had forgotten Lord Voldemort was as 9 year old and his reunion with Lady Stark reminded them of it in very distinct fashion.

Just as Lady Stark jumped of her horse, Voldemort ran towards her with a grin and a shout, "MOTHER!".

The lady quickly wrapped her hands all around him and wailed, "My beautiful son – you are home now. Oh it is so good to have you in my arms. That shithole of king's landing has caused you to loose weight, did it?" And, she continued to pepper kisses on the poor lord.

With a bit of an effort Voldemort extracted himself from his mother's hug and spoke softly, "Of course not. I did not loose weight – I made sure the southern bastard lost weight and now, land. Arryn is getting perpetual migraines. Baelish is in constant pain. The fool challenged father and is now paying for it. You shouldn't have worried for me ma."

"Yes, yes I now. But, I can't help it", the mother spoke.

Voldemort then guided her towards the interior of the impromptu war camp while mumbling some non-sensical ramblings. Finally, he started giving the evil eye plus radiating his dark lord aura towards the soldiers who were looking at the pair – he couldn't have the men thinking Lord Voldemort was a big softie.

 **Command Tent, Voldemort's POV**

Mother's arrival with almost 1,500 men, instead of original 1,000 – all of them trained for guerrilla warfare by the death eater, was right on time. Scouts, most of them wargs, provided by Lord Reed had alerted us that Vale knights, Riverland levies and a smattering of Frey soldiers; totaling to almost 15,000 soldiers were assembled almost 100 miles North-East from the Twins. The number was somewhat unexpected but not unmanagable. The more welcome news was Freys involvement in the upcoming assault. Why welcoming? That gave me _casus belli_ to take the Twins. It had been hampering trade flow into the North and I did not like Freys because they resembled the Weasleys. Weasleys bred like rabbits. Freys bred like rabbits. Good enough reason for me to hate them.

The men however, were a bit fearful of the news and that meant, I would have to bring the wrath of God upon the enemy first. A bit of apparation and then some fiendfire. The pyromaniac inside me was singing.

But, back to my mothers entry into the command tent. After the ungraceful display of affection that surely undermined by no bullshit image, I escorted mother to the command tent. Howland was the only one present there since I knew he would want to see Lyanna Stark on his own.

As I predicted, Howland, ignoring all form of protocol, wrapped mother into a hug and whispered, "Lyanna, little sister. I haven't seen you for a so long. You have raise a fine son – greatest Stark to be live he shall be."

Mother, in a display of softness reserved solely to family, answered, "Howland, yes it has been a long time. And I never thanked you for coming after me in the tower of joy."

"You don't have to thank me Lya – you came for me when I was being beaten for being different. I would come for my little sister who happened to save me first", said Howland.

Before they could talk much, I cut in with, "Mother, Howland – stop this display of disgusting affection. We have an attack to foil. Some 15,000 men to kill. Perhaps you two shall play catch-up someother day? Howland you can visit Winterfell once a while so that you two won't miss eachother so much. So, we can go back to war planning now, eh?"

After that, Howland ordered the remaining commanders to get into the tent. The planning didn't take too long. It amounted to assigning the newly arrived force to crannogmen squads and coordinate them with Howland's wargs. The only problem was the number being 15,000 instead of 10,000. However, I gave them a solution. "Don't worry about that – as of now, we have two death eaters. They will infiltrate the enemy camps and do some killings. Things like poisioning and setting fire. By the time they can march on, there will be less then 10,000 men for us to deal with."

Some commanders did exhibit doubt on that but one look from Mum and the menacing glare from Jason put an end to that. After that the whole meeting quickly devolved down to personal chatter and merriment. As for me, I took Mum towards my personal tent in order to play catch up with Winterfell.

"So Mum, what has happened in Winterfell while I was gone? And I do not see your paramour here? Where is she?"

With a light blush, she responded, "I have her disguised as my hand maiden – we can't have her seen fighting against the Vale or it might cause problem for her and the Lannisters. That is what she says anyway. The red head with a recurve bow and a short sword, that is her."

I chortled and gasped, "The queen is masquerading as your hand maiden? That is just priceless!"

"What do you expect? Neither of us want to be away from eachother for too long. It is your fault anyway", she smacked me a bit.

"My fault? How is it my fault that you took the most vindictive woman in the world as your paramour? And I know for a fact that two of you have fun with a bunch of select servants – don't try to deny it mother", I spoke in a more serious tone.

"Eh – vindictive or not, we are in love and that is all. As for having fun, well they all know how to hold their tongue", she grouched.

"As you say mother. As long as you are happy, I don't particularly care. Do you have any news for me?"

"Well, your bannermen and your uncles are talking about finding you a bride. Before you object, yes I know you are too young to be married but there is nothing wrong with looking for a betrothal contract."

"Doesn't matter. I am not planning to marry for a long time - "

"What about having an heir?"

"Do I need to marry to have one? I can have fun all around and if need be, chose the best child I have had as heir."

"Perhaps. But, regardless, you will at least look at the noble girls to judge for a possible bride. Otherwise, our bannermen won't be happy"

"Bah – what do I care about who are happy or not? And, I will marry whichever girl I happen to like – noble or not."

"How exactly do you think you will find the right girl? Playing at war won't let you see all the girls. That whorehouse or breeding house – whatever you want to call it, will also not give you all the girls in the world. Please son, at least see some of the noble girls."

"Arrrgh..Fine mother. Which girl do you start me to look at?"

"First there is Dacey Mormont. Her brother, Jorah Mormont sent a betrothal contract on her behalf. I don't think the girl herself wants to get married but you will at least get a friend. Wyman also has a daughter around your age I believe. After that, I want you to visit Reach – Margaery Tyrell is said to have both beauty and brains. Then there is Arianne Martell. Venomous and deadly. That will certainly piss Robert off. And, I know you intend to crown yourself as Winter King so, you will visit Essos and check Daenerys Targaryen – if you like her, see about the old wildling tradition. Steal your bride. That will make things easy for us to claim independence."

I was somewhat stunned and reply, "Mother – you gave this whole thing some thought, didn't you?"

With a gleam in her eyes, "That I did son. And, Cersei helped too. She likes you, you know. It was because of you she got away from that shithole. All this will cause pain for Robert and potentially her own father, so she is feeling rather happy."

"Is that so?" I mused while thinking of my dealing with Tywin.

"Yeah – and what about the Black sisters you collected? Completely different race but you have given them a noble house. What are your intentions?"

"Well mother, I need you to take them under your wing. Bellatrix wants to be a warrior and beat up people. Narcissa wants to be a spymaster. Between you and Cersei, that would be easy, don't you think? And as for the name, House of Black is going to be a noble house. I might even go about creating a castle for them. Let's see."

"Well, I always wanted a daughter to spoil. Cersei was talking about the same and she thinks Myrcella is too weak. So the two might be perfect for us. You have a deal son."

After that, we talked about more mundane matters and mother left for her own tent. She would visit my Black protegees and then retire with her hand maiden, who happened to be the queen of seven kingdoms.

The idea of my mother having the queen as her paramour and then moving her around as a hand maiden still driving me into fits of laughter, I called my death eaters for a quick apparation hop to the enemy camp.

The Vale-Tully-Frey camp was brimming with soldiers. But, there was no discipline. I had half a mind to start throwing crucios around except that lack of discipline in enemy camp was beneficial to me. Had to remind myself of that.

Each of my death eater were equipped with pendants that had enchantments such as disillusionment, notice-me-not, deflection and so on. With their enchantments active, the death eaters easily sneaked into the camp and mixed potions designed to increase aggression, reduce comprehension, cause double vision etc. into the enemy's food and water supply. While they were busy with their sabotage operation, I had a different goal in mind. I intended to induce unholy terror right into the southerner's heart while at the same time, purge a significant part of their force.

Once I received the signal that my DE's had successfully completed their mission and removed themselves from the camp, I intoned, "Fiendfyre" right in the middle of a congregation of foot soldiers. Unlike regular fiendfire, this one came down with multiple lightning bolt – the idea was to perpetuate the lightning bolt that almost fried Robert during his Winterfell visit.

As the fire ate through the levies, lightning bolt continued to fall down the camp, killing horses, men and melting weapons. The end result? An army of 15,000 would be reduced to almost 8,000. Sure, I could have simply finished them off but letting fiendfyre run uncontrolled wasn't an option and my army did need some practice.

Then I realized something. Any decent military commander would a swift retreat if half their force were to be destroyed by what was apparently God's wrath. The Lords from Vale, while arrogant, were somewhat decent military commander. So, in order to prevent the rapid withdrawal, I added a bit of aggression into the psyche of Vale Lords commanding the military.

End result? The military started moving early next morning.

 **Conflict in the swamp**

Upon learning the fiery demise of almost half the enemy force, Northern troopers became rather ecstatic. Both, Lyanna and Howland did give Voldemort an appraising look, but neither commented on his amused smile.

As wars go, this one was was very different from most wars seen in Westeros. Instead of grand march, the Northern army broke down in small units and vanished into the swamps. Ambushes were set. Traps were prepared. The swamp was now a death trap for any invaders.

Both little Blacks, Bellatrix and Narcissa, despite Bellatrix's violent protest were safely remanded to Greywater Watch under the watchful eye of Queen Cersei currently pretending to be Lyanna's hand maiden. Cersei was also somewhat angry at being excluded from the battle since in her own words, "Why should only the King get to kill? She is the queen damn it!" Unfortunately for her, being in a hand maiden's disguise meant she couldn't really command anyone.

The battle lasted for better part of a week even if it was uneventful, for the Northerner that is. The southerners however, suffered grievously. The traps claimed a quarter of their number. Ambushes further curtailed their number. The potion and poison introduced in their food supply beforehand had the invaders completely unfit for battle – after all, no man can fight when ill, suffering from mental anguish, poor vision and all kind of aliments. The fact that half of their troops had been massacared by what could only be wrath of God had them further scared.

Within a week, they were all decimated and whatever force remained, turned tailed and ran home - towards Vale or Riverlands, depending on where they hailed from. That would certainly establish fearsome reputation for the North.

However, for Lord Voldemort, this wasn't the end of line. He knew that the Vale lords would start fortifying their shores in aggressive manner the moment the word of this defeat would reach their ears. While the possibility of them fortifying Gulltown was next to nothing, he did not want to take that chance. As such, the idea would be to force them keep an eye towards the neck – make them think an invasion would come from the neck itself.

 **Moat Cailin, Meeting between various Lords, POV Voldemort**

We dispelled the combined army of Vale and Riverlands easily – and the easy victory over numerically superior enemy, everyone was in a decidedly good mood. And that was highlighted here in this meeting. Just about every Lord who were not spearheading the attack or more accurately, the re-taking of Three Sisters were here. It was time to address them all on how the situation would be handled.

After everyone were settled in the grand hall of Moat Cailin, I started with, "Well, it seems just about all of us Northern Lords are here. Now, first given the martial situation and lack of time, I couldn't get to Winterfell and for that, you all were forced to travel down here." Some of the more older, arrogant lords who were expecting an apology perked up and just like that, I put them down, "For that, there is not much to say, except that there is a very good reason."

Roose Bolton, who would have made an excellent death eater, perhaps equal to that of Carrows in his sadistic tendency, whispered, "And what reason would that be my lord?"

Irritated, I snarled, "Roose – this is the only time I will say it. We all know you can speak in normal voice, so if you ever speak in that whispery tone again, I will make sure you cannot speak every again. Do you understand me?"

Shaken, he groveled, "I do my lord. I do."

After that, I continued, "We have delivered a shocking blow to our enemies, that is beyond doubt. The speed with which we took the three sisters and the recent destruction of invading force here at the Neck – that will be something sung for ages. But, that is not enough. I told Jon Arryn that he will have to pay back whatever Vale earned from the island in the last 3,000 years and HE DECLINED! Vale owes us a sum of 3 million gold dragon and Arryn has the guts to say no to even half of that sum!" I banged the table hard.

Ned then asked, "What shall we do Nephew? Surely we won't be invading Eyire? It is too far and too difficult. It would be too costly for us."

"Of course not Uncle – I have threatened Arryn to take a piece of Vale for North. My exact words were, a tiny piece, even a village would be enough. What I intend is to send enough men to establish a Keep in the Bite, straight south of Little Sister. There are a few gold mines or so I have been told. More importantly, Arryns will have to waste a lot of gold guarding that area. More they spend, more I feel better."

Karstark asks in a perplexed tone, "Well my lord, that should be relatively easy. We have enough men in the island now. Why not send them straight there? 3 days journey by ship at most."

"Aye – you are right Lord Karstark. However, I don't want my men to land among well prepared Vale troops. So, what you are all going to do is feign an invasion of Vale from the Neck. Let them all think we are going to invade and have them concentrate their military around here. By the time they hear of our military landing on that end, it will be too late."

Ned is the first to applaud with, "Excellent plan nephew. We will be victrious with minimal bloodshed."

The other lords quickly joined with bravos and well done.

Finally mother spoke up, "There is one final thing my lords – this plan hinges entirely on the Vale men not knowing about our forces landing via. ship. So, I believe none of you will say anything to anyone?"

The DE next to me quipped, "That would be constituted as treason and dealt with it as such."

Mormont was the first to respond, "Obviously my lady. Any military plan is to remain secret and anyone who blabs is a traitor. Everyone knows that. I am sure of it." He looked around, focusing on Bolton – seems no one really likes Bolton. Just like that I sent a legllimency probe towards Roose and turns out, he was planning to write to Jon Arryn about my plan. Well, that was good but, just to be safe, I tweaked it a little. He would rat us out to Arryn but instead of telling about how the invasion from Neck was a feint, he would write that, " _Main invasion will be from neck. Secondary invasion will be from the beach straight south of Little Sister. Expect a few thousand troops. Lord Voldemort will be leading the troops there. Capture him and you will win._ " Good enough to execute him and his house on treason charge, not enough to screw up my plan. Hot damn I am good.

Only mother knew I was going to invade Gulltown, and that was how it would remain until the last moment.

Just when we were about to disperse, Uncle Ned asked, "Wait – what about the Riverlands? Tully sent his forces against us. Frey soldiers were seen. That cannot go unpunished – you understand that don't you nephew?" The man still harbored a grudge against Tully it seemed.

I gave my best dark lord grin and said, "Well, given that our beautiful Queen Cersei has chosen to call the North home, Tywin Lannister will be supporting us in this little scuffle. As such, given Riverlands aggression towards North, Westerland forces have most likely moved against House Tully. Not enough to incite a war, but just enough to keep them occupied."

Reed asked, "And the Freys? We are going to take care of them I think?"

"If by taking care of them, you mean removal of Freys from the Twins, then yes. I am going to lead some of our force and take the Twins. Starting now on, that place will belong to the North and no one else."

Tallahart blinked and said, "Surely you mean to destroy them, not take and hold. Don't you? Until we force Vale and Riverrun to come to a truce with us, they will maintain siege constantly my lord."

I laughed and said, "No need to worry my friend. We won't take over Twins until our invasion of Vale truly starts. By then, Tywin Lannister will have distracted Tully enough that the trouts won't be an issue."

Mother brought the Q&A session to an end with, "Well, if there aren't any more questions for my son, I believe we shall all retire. We, the Stark family have been separated for too long and it is time for us family to have some quiet time."

Family time? Why do I feel dread creeping all over me?

 **Month 10, 287 AC, Neutral POV** **Arryn's dilemma**

Jon Arryn as peeved. He couldn't abandon his Hand's duty and leave king's landing, despite the precarious development between Vale and North. The Three Sisters had always been a problem island for his house but for the whole thing to erupt like this? It was simply unthinkable. To make matters worse, Northerners, directed by the upstart Lord Voldemort, had wiped out a 15,000 men strong invasion force. The rumors said half of the army was killed by wrath of gods – lightning and fire. The rest were killed by savage northerners. No matter what, Vale had been butchered. Then there was the threat of invasion by Voldemort.

The raven from Lord Bolton all but proved it. A part of him doubted it but couple that with reports from scouts and the threat given by Voldemort in open court, he couldn't ignore Bolton's letter. Bolton wanted to be the next warden of the north for this key piece of information. Perhaps if that little shit were to be killed, he might install Bolton as Lord Paramount of North. As much as he loved Ned, the boy had proven more or less useless.

Latest report suggested that troops lead by Ned and other prominent lords were seen in the outer periphery of the Neck. Scouts, who always ran away from confrontation, were seen around the Bite itself. And the northern war galleys were wreaking havoc around the area where the sea invasion was supposed to be. Vale did not have a fleet and Stannis was adamant that Royal fleet would not intervene in what was a regional dispute. That bastard had swayed the court in his favor and every other kingdom had made it clear that they would not support the crown's involvement.

So, given his lack of choice Jon Arryn diverted the largest portion of whatever troop remained towards the neck and the smaller part towards the sea landing zone. Internally he knew that the mountain clans would capitalize on this but, with threat from North, he did not have much option.

 **Internal thoughts of a random Mountain Man**

Hot damn – these andal bastards are all gone. Gone to fight a war somewhere else. There home unguarded. There farms unguarded. There women unguarded. Old gods – Yule has come early this season! Lets go and pillage, burn and pillage some more!

 **Tywin Lannister**

Northerners killed over 15,000 Vale and Riverland soldiers in less then a week? Impressive. Lord Voldemort did say he would give enough reason for us to start attacking the trout. Well, not only did he give us enough reason, he also weakened the Trout plenty. Tully wouldn't be able to raise enough men to mount a proper defense, not quick enough anyway. I was already prepared to eliminate the fish from Riverlands and well, my armies, a full 20,000 strong had been ready and waiting right at Golden Tooth. The moment I heard news as to how Tully dispatch majority of his castle's force to fight the Northerners, we all set out to lay siege on Riverrun itself.

In about two weeks, we started a siege on Riverrun. Tyrion, on his many talks with Lord Voldemort seemed to have gotten many ideas on how to bash a castle to submission. Based on Tyrion's suggestion, which undoubtedly came from Lord Voldemort, I had the scorpions and terbuchets constructed before reaching the castle itself. Workers had the made in pieces and assembled right outside the castle. Archers were ordered to shoot any outgoing ravens. Then, we started poisoning the water – not particularly effective given how much water there is but still.

Ares had the pyromancers make enough wild fire to burn Kings Landing twice over. What no one knew was that, I had smuggled a few bottle of rather potent wild fire to the Rock. Unlike the pyromancers who stored the potent liquid in clay jars, I had commissioned some glass bottles in Myr. Costly. Very costly. But, extremely safe to store wild fire. For years, I kept them secure inside an old abandoned gold mine. And now, I was going to use it. Without a pyromancer, we wouldn't be able to use in in the most efficient manner possible BUT, I did not need efficiency.

By evening, one of the carpenters approached me and said, "My Lord, the scorpion and catapult you ordered is now ready!"

"Get the crew to range them for the draw-bridge. And hurry about it!", I ordered.

My plan was to simply smash the bottle of wild fire against the main door of Riverrun castle and let the door burn down. Within a few hour, we were all watching the door burn. No wonder Ares loved wild fire. A single bottle – in fact, less then a bottle of it completely destroyed the door. Scorpion bolt doused in the same wild fire were hurled inside the castle with deadly efficiency. The end result? We had most of the guards killed before even stepping in.

In less then four days, Lannister forces had taken over Riverrun. Its treasury, library and anything decently valuable was quickly shipped back to Casterly Rock. Tyrion wanted to keep the castle for another vassal or perhaps a new Lord Paramount of Riverlands. Unfortunately for him, I had a very different plan.

 _Reynes of Castamere_ had gotten boring. I hated that damn song. Too darn repetitive. So, after a week of occupation at which point all Tullys, only three of them were left anyway, were dead, I decided to set the whole damn castle to torch. Burn it to ashes, I ordered.

Unlike the Castameres, I spared the servants. I had them watch their beloved castle burn to cinders and knew, they would spread the word far and wide. The bards would have a new song soon. _Roasted_ _Fish of the Rivers?_ I should have some roasted fish for dinner tonight. Yes – roasted fish and deep fried potatoes. Fish and chips. That was what Lord Voldemort called it. "Have Jaime report to my tent", I order my page – some green boy from one of the minor Westerland houses.

Once Tyrion arrived, I told him, "Jaime – I want you to have a talk with the cooks. Lets make sure the men have something special to break their fast tomorrow. Fish and chips. Have our fishermen get enough trout for everyone."

"Looking to make a new song are we father?", japped the son whose only excuse lies in sword.

He quickly quailed under my gaze and said, "Well Father, it might take a bit longer to collect enough fish for the whole 20,000 men. Perhaps a month even. What we can do is feed some of the knights and select levies in the manner you desire. That way, the rumors will start and well, you will have your song."

"Then do it so Jaime. I might even let your brother open his own whorehouse in Lannisterport if you do this well. You want that imp to be happy?", I replied while cursing the imp for always being right.

Jaime smiled, probably thinking about how happy his little brother would be at having his own whorehouse, "Father, have you thought about maybe keeping this fish and chips with some ale as our Westerland morning food? That would send a message to everyone I think. Each time someone else eats fish and chips, they will be reminded of Tully's destruction. Even Robert likes fish and chips – that is what uncle Kevan wrote. It should astonish everyone at how the King celebrates the destruction of one of his own Lord Paramounts."

Now that is an idea. My brainless son who seemed to excel only in carving people up has finally given me some decent advice. I should write to Kevan and have him see about the king feeding more and more on this fish 'n chips.

 **A random Riverland lord**

Damn Tully – why did he have to involve us in this pointless war? Now the Lannisters have extinguished them. Northerners killed more then 7,000 of our levies. They seem to be getting ready to march upon us even now. Perhaps with the lions exterminating the trouts, the wolves won't march here? Is that too much to hope? Damn wolves – even the gods are on their side. Where are the seven when you need them?

Lions seem to be camped out right near the ruins of Tullys. Will they move forward to invade? Until we have a new lord paramount, we won't be able to mount much defense. No one seems to be in a hurry to avenge the trouts. Lions and the possible fury of old gods has us all shaking to the boot. Looks like this is the fate of living in the Riverlands, either bandits or another kingdom. Why? Why? Why?

 **Lord Jason Mallister, Seagard**

Well, Tullys are done for. Never like them anyway. Tax, tax, tax. But, no contribution against ironborn raiders or bandits. Should I send a thank you note to the Lannisters? This is an excellent time to make my bid for Lord Paramount of Riverland. The Freys might try but since they provided troops to Vale against the North, something tells me their days are numbered. The best thing to do right now would be to send a raven to both Lord Voldemort, pledging neutrality and then to my fellow River lords who might support me. I will let the Freys make their bid and once they are removed by the Northerners, the go on taking the reins of Lord Paramountship of Riverland. It is a good day to be a Mallister.

 **Month 11, 287 AC, Lord Voldemort POV, location Island of Little Sister**

The campaign had gone without a hitch. Tywin Lannister had exterminated the Tullys. I had _cassus bellus_ to remove Freys from equation. Mallister had already sent me a raven pledging neutrality in return for not attacking. The man was going to bid for Wardenship of Riverland – I was sure of it. Ned, Karstark, Bolton and other more martially prominent lords were showing their face around the neck and thus, the might of Vale was occupied right where I wanted. They weren't attacking – after the last fiasco, they were in no position to initiate an offense, only defense. Thus, here I am in the Island of Little Sister, coordinating the army which took the islands nearly 3 months ago, for the attack against Gulltown.

I was also in constant communication with Tywin Lannister. The idea of setting fish and chips as national breakfast for Westerland was devious. Never thought the man would do so when I introduced them to the British staple of fish 'n chips. Looks like the population of trouts in streams around Westerland was going to take a hit. As for Mallister, Tywin was on board with supporting the man's eventual bid for Wardenship. I half expected him to root for Frey but apparently, the old man knew that Walder Frey's act of providing soldiers against north had already sealed their fate. Smart lion. I knew one of the Frey did marry into his family, but to cut them off like that? It takes a cold practicality, unless whichever Frey married into his family did not sire any children. The children's of Genna Lannister(Frey) and Eammon Frey did not represent their Frey father in any manner whatsoever. That might be the reason why. Bah. What do I care anyway?

Within days of my arrival in the islands, I had the military start loading up the ships. Out of 10,000 soldiers, I would be taking half of them for my invasion into Gulltown. It might not be enough in a conventional battle, but with my magic, there was not going to be a conventional battle. All trouble makers, as in vale loyalists or few who hated the North, in the islands had already been sent to the wall, and so leaving 5,000 men to handle said islands seemed to be OK. The smugglers did not really care who was in charge of the island, as long as they could go about doing there business. My commanders had made it clear that they could restart their business with official support from us once the current situation was taken care of. That meant most smugglers and pirates were firmly on our side. The war galleys patrolling the waters plus scorpios build on cliffs would take care of any amphibious attack – not that there was going to be any.

Finally, when the 11th month of year 287AC was about to end, we set off to take the penninsula where Gulltown laid. Unknown to all, I had laid enchantments on our ships that made them unnoticeable to watchful eyes. The sails were similarly enchanted to make the most out of the winds and so, despite taking the long route – circling outwards from island of Pebbles and Paps, sailing as far as possible from the shore of Fingers, we made our way in to the Bay of Crabs in record time. About two weeks.

The attack would be two pronged. The biggest attack force would take Gulltown, the northern tip of the Bay of Crabs, or more accurately, the southern side of our peninsula. The smaller, but more vicious attack unit would take Runestone, located in the northern side of peninsula.

I created a thick layer of fog all over the bay to mask the approach our ships – hundreds of them carrying around 5,000 mean, angry, shouting soldiers. As per our usual tactics, the attack ships and war galleys stayed in the bay to wipe out any possible naval force, while the ground pounders took the fort.

Most of the ships entered Bay of Crabs, unloading around 3,000 soldiers, right at the port of Gulltown. The other half, had sailed towards Runestone on the southern side, taking 2,000 men.

Given our masked approach, the fog and cold, we caught them all literally with their pants down. Much to the disappointment of our soldiers, poor bastards dropped their swords without even a fight.

House Royce might have tried to fight some, but I put a quick end to that. We quickly infiltrated the castle and took the family hostage. When Yohn Royce tried to challenge us, I offered, "Yohn Royce – blood of first men flows through your vein. Magic of old gods flows in us all. Yet, you follow your andal masters. Why is that?"

"Because old magic is no more – it is done for", he answered, full of regret.

"I have been told you have a bronze armor that is said to stop injury. If I were to prove the armor's magic works for me, then will you swear your house to me?"

He gets a contemplative look and says, "I will."

After that things we easy. The armor had runes and had to be recharged. I wore it and had a soldier hit me with a hammer. Voila. No injury. As one, all the Royces dropped on their knees and spoke, "We Remember, sire". Glorious. Simply glorious.

That evening, over dinner my DEs and commanders informed me about the current situation. All in all, we lost only about a hundred men. Given our dramatic entrance, the thick fog and general lack of defenses, the take over was trivial. The big question was how to hold the damn place. With House Royce on our side, we had gained plenty of resource and also, almost 5,000 swords. Luckily, the soldiers of Royce had just left Runestone and so, Lord Royce dispatched a runner instructing them to return home. Within weeks, they would bolster the defenses.

The men from Gulltown were a different story. Most of them were rich, fat merchants. Ruled by House Grafton, an andal house, plenty rich but no good at war fighting, the place would have to be pacified one way or the other. The question was how. A quick leglligmency scan proved I would not have to worry about an armed conflict any time soon – with the city watch contained, the rest of denizens would not fight (as long as their money was not threatened). Unfortunately for them, I wanted their money – whether by straight out coercion or hike in taxes. The soldiers of city watch would never fight for me and sending a force of 500 men to the wall did not sound like a particularly good idea. What if they decided to grab one of the night watch's castle for themselves?

Wyman Manderly, my chief naval advisor, who understood this dilemma spoke up, "My Lord – these men are very much against us. We could bribe them but that won't last for long. If we were to kill them all, it might incite rebellion in the city. Sending them to the wall is also not an option – first our ships are busy here. Second, I do not trust them to stay well behaved."

"They what do you suggest Wyman?", I asked.

"We need to build fortifications all around the peninsula. For that we need people that do the hard work, laborers to move stones, trees and so forth. We have 500 good strong men – let's make use of that", the fat lord smiled from ear to ear. "Hard work for their life"

"Well said Wyman. We will have to find appropriate work where they won't find weapons but I believe we can make good use of these men. And, we will be using them only for menial job – no need to let potential enemy know our fortification!"

 **Month 12, 287 AC, Neutral POV**

The state of Westeros was normal, except for that of Vale and Riverlands. The best port city of Vale had been taken by the Northerners. And, there was no way for the Vale men to retake said city because they were duped by an attack that would never come. They thought the savages would attack at the top end of Vale but instead, were kicked by the ass end.

However, as badly as Vale was hurt, Riverlands was hurt even worse. The Lannisters had purged it's Lord Paramount. They burned down his castle. And to add insult to injury, the lions started a new meal they dubbed fish 'n chips – apparently _Reynes of Castameres_ wasn't enough for the old lion and so, in order to immortalize his victory over the Tully's he had to establish fish as breakfast meal. Roasted fish, the same way he roasted Hoster Tully. Talk about irony.

Many of River lords were setting up their own coalition to be the next Lord Paramount. Freys were on the top of list – for the uninformed anyway. The informed however knew that Starks were going to exterminate Freys sooner then later. Riverland was at war and there was nothing anyone could do it.

King Robert's court, or more like Jon Arryn's court was in a state of perpetual mess. Lysa Arryn was constantly screaming at Kevan Lannister for the extermination of her family. For that, Kevan smile and would simply say something like, "Well, your father attacked the house which is protecting the queen of seven kingdoms. What do you think was going to happen? You thought we were going to take it lying down and do nothing? Of course your father tried to marry off an unpure daughter, one who had once been pregnant to my nephew, that might have made the lions a tiny bit angry." Then Kevan would look at Arryn and say, "Lord Arryn, what did you think of Tyrion providing fish 'n chips to the poor of flea bottom? Wasn't that magnanimous of my nephew?" A clear jab at demise of trouts but, what can anyone say?

As far as Jon Arryn as concerned, the whole thing was a clusterfuck to be sure. Robert didn't care what was going on since he was absolutely convinced that Vale was on the wrong side in this whole affair. Why couldn't no one understand that the North surrendered those island to Vale three thousand years ago? It happened a long time ago and those savages were using it as an excuse to bled Vale. Losing the islands of Three Sisters didn't really matter to him – that damn place hardly paid any tax at all. What concerned him was the loss of Gulltown and the peninsula it was on. It was Vale's money maker, almost all of the outgoing trade happened through Gulltown's port. Not just that, Vale made a profit by taxing ships that went through the Bay of Crabs to Maidenpool. But, with the the bay and Gulltown falling to them, he knew income of House Arryn was going to be reduced by more then half. Finally, there was the betrayal of House Royce, something no one had seen coming. Yohn Royce and all his retainers had bent their knee to Lord Voldemort. Some hocus-pocus about blood of first men. The only thing going through Arryn was, "The moment I get that place back, I am going to string Royce by his innards!"

While Vale was suffering, Northerners were rejoicing. They had taken back what was rightfully theirs. They had killed almost 15,000 enemy soldiers at cost of a few hundred. And, they had grabbed a nice piece of Vale. All in a span of few months. For the first time since Torrhen Stark bent knee to the dragons, whispers of Northern Resurgence was being heard. It was clear to all but the blind that sooner or later, Lord Voldemort would be crowned as the Winter King.

 **The Fate of Freys**

The moment commanding officers of Vale heard about Gulltown being invaded by the Northern force, they realized they had been duped. All the posturing with troop movement and aggressive maneuvers in the periphery of the Neck had been nothing but a massive diversion. Ser Harrold Hardyng, also known as " _Harry the heir_ ", given how he was second heir after Robert Arryn, ordered the army to rush towards Gulltown. Hardyng was a man with more brute force then sense or else, he might not have ordered such a rush.

In the best situation, Vale was capable of raising a host of 45,000 strong. Currently, they had an army of 30,000 (after the 10,000 men killed in the Neck), standing between the North and the Vale. Being in such a hurry, Harry ordered all but a thousand men to move for Gulltown, nevermind the fact that an army of 29,000 men could never move through the hills and mountains while maintaining discipline. He did not even care the fact that Gulltown was situated in the other end, meaning the army would have to cross innumerable hills, most of which were barely surveyed. As for the food supply, his comment was, "That is what the small folks are for right?"

Long story short, Hardyng's stupidity got a good third of his men killed when marching towards Gulltown. The thousand men left to watch the Neck were smart and did nothing when the army emerged from the swamp, moving towards the Twins. The story goes that Twins fell without drawing a single sword. As one of witness from Vale said, " _As a host of Northern soldiers marched towards the twins, instead of greeting them with rain of arrows, the drawbridge opened. They just walked right through._ " What happened behind the scene was a bit more complicated. The moment scouts reported Vale army was gone, a pair of DEs infiltrated the Twins and started to kill everyone. Poison in the troops water supply killed most soldiers and whoever remained, were executed without mercy. Only the children were spared from the slaughter. By the time rest of the military arrived, all that remained was to open the drawbridge and clean up the corpses. Reed and Lyanna were going in charge of the military so, the clean up was particularly vicious. Reed, he hated Freys given the history between crannogmen and the weasels. Lyanna, well she was the wild wolf and determined to carve up all southerners.

Once the occupying army was settled inside the Twins, the first thing they did was clean the skulls of Walder Frey and his sons. The well polished skulls were then affixed right on the main gates, as if saying, " _Loose all hopes, ye who enter here_ ". Lyanna was quick to sent a raven to every lord of importance detailing the fall of the Twins. The gist being, Walder Frey assisted in an unlawful attack against the North and was involved in hurting trade, for which he was executed, and his holdings taken by the North as it's own. The legality of whole thing was dubious but, power is power. And, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that Lord Voldemort was POWER.


	10. Splash of the Kraken

AN: _Tommy boy is definitely changing the entire world and those who resist will get destroyed, no question. Annoy mouse: Yeah, you are right about Merope Gaunt. I did not pay much attention to history of LV, which was covered in the last two books I believe. Hated the later books anyway._

 **Splash of the Kraken**

Month 1, 288 AC Voldemort POV 1

Month 2, 287 AC – Greyjoy's rebellion 2

Month 4, 288 AC, Voldemort's POV 3

Month 5, 287 AC Lannisport, Voldemort POV 4

Month 6, 288 AC 6

Month 7, 288 AC 6

Fall of Iron Isles 7

 **Month 1, 288 AC Voldemort POV**

All in all, the outcome of my _let's fuck with the Vale_ plan exceeded expectations. If this was Hogwarts, I would have given myself an Outstanding. Successful capture of Three Sister meant we had an independent naval base. The resource coming out of that place was nothing to be sneered at either. Sea food from there would supplement Winterfell's supply during winter. Capture of Gulltown's peninsula however, started a whole different story. It was a strategically significant location in every which way possible. If I were to ever go to war with say, Vale or King's Landing, that Peninsula would make an excellent stepping stone. Force projection in the simplest term. Station a fleet there, couple it with a few thousand well trained troops, and well nothing could stand against against us.

That wasn't the whole story. We had also captured the Twins – an important crossing. Before that, no one could breach into North due to natural defense of the Neck, now with the Twins in my control, I could actually attack any incoming army without being delayed by the Neck.

Not just that, Tywin Lannister had eradicated House Tully, thus throwing Riverrland into chaos. House Mallister, one of the most stable, well respected and strongest house in the area had aligned with us – myself and Tywin, as long as we were to support their bid in becoming the Lord Paramount. Sooner or later, the North was going to have a solid stronghold over the Riverrlands, an area rich in fertile lands.

I also had a small trading output being built in the Westerland. In less then a year, there would be a decent sized military base. With almost a third of Westerland's navy working for the North, I had complete naval dominance on the western side of North too. All in all, militarily speaking, the saftey of North was secure. Politically however, it was somewhat shaky. Having the support of Westerland did make things good in the court but with my attack on the Vale and straight out antagonistic relationship with Jon Arryn, the hand of King, I would have to either lay low for quiet sometime or establish firm diplomatic relationship with remaining kingdoms. We shall see.

Then it happened. For some it was shit, for some it was glorious. Shit mainly to the Reach, Riverrland and perhaps Westerland. Politically, it was very bad for Robert Baratheon. What happened? Balon Greyjoy, the lord of iron island decided to rebel and declare himself king. Glorious only for myself (read the North).

 **Month 2, 287 AC – Greyjoy's rebellion**

Of some 20,000 troops that we had mustered during the planned offensive for Three Sister offensive, 15,000 were already deployed. About 5,000 were stationed in the islands themselves, another five in the peninsula (which I had yet to rename – what kind of name is Gulltown anyway?) and remaining five were guarding the Twins and the Neck. The five thousand that were yet to be deployed, were sitting around Volcano Town, Winter Town and a few other hold fasts, training and drinking.

The Lannister navy that I had "borrowed" from Tywin did what they were supposed to. The one hundred Lannister ships, plus 50 Stark and Manderly ships prevented just about every single Iron Island raiding ship from entering Northern waters. It was then I received an alert from the DE stationed in the trade post near Lannisport – Greyjoys started the war by shacking Lannisport. Given how Lannisters had kept almost a third of their navy in dry docks, well you don't have to imagine the outcome do you? The remaining third were distributed all around Westeros, even as far as Essos providing escort for merchant vessels. At least given the recent offensive against Tully's, Tywin had his army well supplied and ready to mobilize at a moment's notice. That meant any raider that landed in Westerland was killed with extreme prejudice. As much as the lion's pride was hurt, its overall strength was not decimitated.

Unfortunately, that meant ironborn's anger ended up towards Reach – a much more lucrative target. Locations like Shield Islands, Arbor, Old Oak, Black Crown and Old Town were hit in quick succession. Fortunately for me and the ironborn, the raid on Old Town was not successful. (I had my own design on that place) Shield Islands on the other hand, suffered in a way no one can imagine. The raiders gave a new meaning to "Rape, Pillage and Plunder".

Attack on Riverrlands was started with a concentrated attack on Seagard, which was foiled given how much they were on guard. Generally speaking, every castle in Riverrlands had been in a heightened state of alert since Tywin wiped out the Tullys. So, Greyjoy attempt to take Seagard ended in failure. Instead what the raiders did was go on an inhinged pillaging of the countryside. The small folk suffered like nobodys business. Uncle Ned, who was in charge of the Twins, made the smartest move in his life. He proclaimed that any small folk who were to move past the Twins, into what was previously the Frey lands and swear fealty to the North, would gain protection from the raiders. Within months, over 20 thousand small folks moved past the Twins. That meant if an army were to march against the North, I could quickly raise an army of minimal 5 to 10 thousand in a hurry.

The shipyard in volcano town had been constantly making new ships, thus when the Greyjoy rebellion started, I had a whole new fleet available. So, the fleet was quickly dispatched towards Shield island. It would take almost two months, despite them having extra enhancements (magical and physical, from my earth knowledge), to reach said islands. My reasons for fleet deployment wasn't altrustic – it was about making friends with Reach. The Royal fleet had been sabotaged by the troops stationed in Kings Landing and so, would not be able to help for quiet some time. Tyrells and other Reach lords were going to be rather angry at the infective royal response.

Of course, one of my DE had infiltrated the Shiled Islands to wreck some extra havock for both the defenders and the attackers. The idea was to cause as much chaos as possible. The DE would make sure overlords of Shield Island and their masters, Tyrells would be as furious as humanly possible. Iron fleet had already forced Redwyne fleet to stay on defense so, Northern fleet would be the only recourse for them.

 **Month 4, 288 AC, Voldemort's POV**

As per Tywin's insistence, I released a portion of his navy seconded to me. Apparently, the old lion was getting tired of killing reavers that made shore. His exact wording bein, " _Killing these weak, unarmored scum is getting old. If my army were to get used to killing squids too much, they might get arrogant and that will definitely get them killed when they face with more proper enemies. I need you to divert some of my ships you have borrowed and stop these scum from making land. Your fleet making way here and I hope that will be soon, for I can't stand the stench anymore._ ".

Turns out, Robert and his host of 10 thousand strong had arrived in Lannisport waiting for royal navy to provide them transport to the Iron Islands. Unfortunately for them, Royal Navy was busy with problems that came from them not being _my navy_. And, more importantly, I did not want to decimate the iron fleet. Oh no – a little bit of chaos is good. Has no one heard of war profiteering?

The fleet around Shield Island was obliterated easy enough, after all, a whole fleet of lean, mean attack vessels designed with a singular goal of destruction and strengthened with magical enhancement was more then a match for some poorly constructed tubs. Unfortunately for the islanders, my fleet did not carry much in terms of attack troops. As such, despite destroying their enemies naval element, the Ironborn ground forces were somewhat intact. Most ironborns tended to stay in their ship when resting and so, their ground force did suffer some loss.

What we did however, was give the defenders hope and that is the greatest weapon one can have. The ground force having lost the initiative, were forced in the defensive, which gave the reigining lords to talk with the Fleet commander, myself. When they found the fleet was heading towards Lannisport and eventually to take the Iron Island, they pretty much forced me to take a representative from each of their houses. End result? I had either the heir or one of the more prominent family members of House Grimm, Greyshield, Hewett and Serry traveling with me. I wasn't complaining – it was an excellent opportunity to start making ties with Reach.

 **Month 5, 287 AC Lannisport, Voldemort POV**

I was greeted by Tywin and Tyrion with, "Welcome to Lannisport Lord Voldemort. You have brought a most impressive fleet with you."

"Thank you – my fleet will have to resupply and after that, we shall be on our way. The prize is waiting", I stated unquivocally.

With a grin, Tyrion said, "Not interested in chatting with King Robert?"

I give a look to him and, "Let us just say I share an aversion to stench with your father and be done with that."

Tywin looks critically at my fleet anchored around the harbor and comments, "I am not a shipwright but I am certain, every single of those ships are built for attack, not carry troops. How will you be taking the islands with them?"

"Remember the ships I borrowed from you?", when he nods yes, I continue, "Each of those ships are now carrying about a 100 men. When I reach the islands and wipe out its defenses, those ships will come and send my soldiers."

"Excellent strategy my lord. But, I believe King Robert will be most displeased at not being a part of the action", quipped Tyrion.

"Bah – I have a bunch of angry Reachmen with me who are baying for blood. They have more cause the Robert every will. If he wishes for blood, then I will let him in my ships but like I said, these ships are not meant for comfort and he won't be bringing any soldiers with him."

Tywin gives a speculative glance at Tyrion and says, "Well, I suppose the king will do what he wants. But, I do wish to travel with you. I have every intention of taking Balon Greyjoys head myself."

I laugh and say, "Well, you will have to make a run for it I guess. Uncle Ned will be leading the ground force I believe. And well, he doesn't like you very much."

Tywin grimaces and retorts, "Good man Eddard maybe, but pardon me my lord, he is still a fool. What happened in the Red Keep was my way of ensuring the survival of my house. That said, my orders did not mean to rape either of the princess. Sometimes, when you employ mad dogs, you have to accept that they overrun their boundaries. It is what it is."

Before I could say anything, Tyrion replies, "Even then father, the world still blames you and consequently us. It is not that the world blames us that has me worried, it is the Martells. Damn vipers – Prince Oberyn is known to meddle with poison and run around sellsword companies. I am simply not comfortable with them vying for our blood. I quiet like living."

Quiet amusing if I say so. I happily reply, "Tyrion is absolutely right. Martells might be a problem. Doran is known to be patient and those kind of people are always dangerous. Oberyn does keep some interesting company and can cause some damage. I am as uncomfortable as Tyrion is with them. Not just that, Rhaegar had my aunt imprisoned in Dorne and they did not know it? Hard to believe."

Tywin seems to finally realize the potential issue that Dorne might be and slowly responds, "What do you propose? Something like the Vale?"

"Too far off for that. No easy reason either. Perhaps Martell's of the desert?"

Tywin grins, if the man had magic, he might have been a dark lord. "Again, too far off. Perhaps we should simply stay vigilant but start thinking of contingency plans?"

"Correct", I give a succinct reply. The issue with Martells is not straightforward. I was going to find out how much they knew about my Mother's situation in the Tower of Joy and if they even had an inkling of what was going on, well, sometimes there are better alternatives the crucio. I might even bind their soul eternally to the depth of ocean. The greatest regret of my life had been the quick AK on my worthless muggle father. My mother might have been wrong on how she went about gaining him as a husband, but he was the cause of her death. I gave that bastard an easy death, something I still regret. If the Martells were complicit in Lyannas (mother's) suffering in that damn tower, nothing will ever help them.

Both the Lannisters judged my angry mood accurately and in a show of sanity, kept quiet. Soon we reached Robert and well, his antiques had me devolve in primal dark lord fury.

The fatso was groping a servant girl and gorging himself with wine and chicken. "Well Lord Stark, took you long enough. Had enough of Vale?"

My already mercurial mood went red and I raged, "Yes fat king – I had enough of killing useless knights. All 15 thousand of them in fact. Pity your foster father did not send more for me to kill. I am here to resupply my fleet and will be gone to wipe off those scum from the face of earth. If you wish to wait for your worthless brother who apparently can't even command a fleet, then well, stay here and stay drunk."

The man angrily stumbled and shouted, "Who the fuck you think you are you little shit?" He tried to throw a piece of chicken at me, but the DE expertly batted it back at him with the side of his sword.

Releasing my aura, I responded, "I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!"

Perhaps, my aura was sufficient was enough bring some sense into the man. So, instead of charging towards me and getting gutted, he laughed, "A true Northman aren't you boy? And yes, that brother of mine is a worthless master of ship. I will be sailing with you when you go for Iron Island. Have someone fetch me. Now go, get some rest – looks like you need it."

I suppose the man did deserve to be King if he can work his way out of my aura in one fashion or another. It just made me want to crucio the fat bastard even more – if only I hadn't promised Ned that I wouldn't kill or otherwise hasten the fatso's demise.

Instead of the initially determined (wished for more like) 2 days, it took us almost a whole week to resupply and leave Lannisport. On the downside, this delay most likely gave the Ironborn news our our impending arrival. But, on the top side, the men would have plenty of food, water and be in high spirits about the upcoming battle.

So, just when the month was about to end, we left the port city loaded with plenty of food, water, a number of noble lords who wanted a bit of glory in shacking the Iron Isles, plus the King of Westeros himself.

 **Month 6, 288 AC**

The journey towards Iron Islands was uneventful. Occasional iron born longships were sunk without question but otherwise, we did not bother to engage any raiders that might be attacking nearby port cities. The current line of thought – at least mine and my naval commanders was that once we start attacking the islands, those raiders would either come towards us and die, or do the smart thing and head for the open seas. Wasting time after small fish would allow the islanders to get ready for us and that was simply not acceptable.

Many of the Westerland Lords and King Robert grumbled over our strategy of letting the small fish escape – not that it bothered us. But again, I saw no need to explain the strategy to them. Tywin Lannister on the otherhand, saw through the plan and brought his underling to heel. I would have to hasten the demise of this man. No matter what, Tywin Lannister was NOT a friend, and if he were to see profit, he would happily ensure my end.

 **Month 7, 288 AC**

We finally arrived at the Iron Islands, a cluster of 3 large and 3 smaller islands. My fleet was 300 strong attack ships. Conventional logic said that we would have to take the strongest island, Great Wyk first. But, I was all for screwing the conventional logic.

My overall attack plan was to wipe out whatever naval asset they had and they lay waste to the island with specially prepared exploding scorpio bolts. Unlike the wild fire made the poor excuse of alchemist here in this world, the potioneers from Earth had made pyromancy a proper art form. There were potions for every kind of fire you wanted – whether you wanted a huge explosion or a small one, slow burning fire or quick burning – there was no issue. But, most importantly, those potions were all safe. You could throw them around, shit on them, piss on them and still, they would lay inert. So, I had those potion brewed and loaded into specially prepared arrow tips. End result? My ships were more akin to artillery barges then traditional Westerosi war galleys.

The scorpio bolts with exploding tips had been used in a limited basis while on our way to the iron islands – the exploding tips were fairly low key since they did not result in fiery explosion. In fact, exploding tip was a misnomer, those tips would simply shatter wherever they impacted causing a noise that sounded like an explosion. A smart muggle might have found the noise similar to that of a breaching charge or even a fragmentation grenade.

Here in the Iron Islands, my fleet broke down into smaller battle groups and started launching their projectiles. The breaching bolts were used to cripple any advancing long ships while incendiary bolts devastated the well built harbor the rebels had. Not just that, I had ordered my ships to bombard the castles with said projectiles in such a fashion that they would be incapable to mount any organized defense.

In about 3 days, the sea around the Iron Islands was filled with uncountable broken hulls. And, I finally saw sails on the Eastern Horizon – Lannister ships "borrowed" by us had stayed hidden around the Cape of Eagle. Once they heard the news of the attack fleet's arrival in the Iron Islands, they finally set sail towards the island, carrying almost 10 thousand foot soldiers. The nominal person in command of that fleet was Eddard Stark but every high ranking member knew who truly carried the flag – a solitary death eater assigned to that fleet.

The meeting between the respective flagship of attack fleet and subjugation fleet (Ned's fleet would be pacifying the ground) was bittersweet. Ned and myself, we were in good terms even if our ideals did not always match. Robert and Ned however, they were NOT in good terms. Robert who truly did not think he did anything wrong welcomed Uncle Ned with, "Ned – my friend! I missed you."

Instead of the respect he showed back in Winterfell Ned gave a sharp inclination of his head and replied, "King Robert, glad to see you are in shape. You will not try to take my nephew hostage anymore, I trust?" The last was delivered with a jerk of his head towards the vast quantity of ships brimming with scorpios and fighting men – all in Northern colors. Robert, developed an interesting skin tone and blurted, "Don't be like that Ned. It was all in good fun. You know how it is – the boy is perfectly fine, no harm done. If something had happened, you had my bitch – chopped her head of you could. I would have been fine with it."

Ned shook his head in disgust, "It is all done now – lets focus on killing the squids now."

Robert, always happy to settle things with warhammer, gave a gleeful cry and shouted, "Kill some squids!"

After that, it was a relatively boring job.

Robert, Ned and Tywin led the charge into Great Wyk, which happened to have the largest concentration of Ironborn warriors. Jorah Mormont led the ground attack on Harlaw, second largest island. As for Pyke, that honor went to myself. Can you imagine a seven year old, now matter how exceptional, running swords blazing into enemy lines? Well, the primitives of Westeros were treated to that exceptional sight. Of course I wasn't an idiot – my armor and swords were both charmed to induce fear. Two of my death eater were around me as were some of the best soldiers trained by the same DEs. The end result being that castle of Pyke was the first one to fall.

 **Fall of Iron Isles**

Balon Greyjoy wished for the Iron Islands to rise beyond dreams, but given Lord Voldemort's swift action Iron Islands fell like a mummers farce. The initial bombardment of the islands by Northern ship's explosive bolts had reduced the strongholds and walls into rubbles. Just moments before that happened, Balon was happily crowing how the puny fleet could never breach his Islands and how Iron fleet, lead by his brothers would soon arrive and wipe them out.

Unfortunately for him, no one told him about Voldemort's devastating new weapons – the exploding bolts and the fire bolts. One would strike a wall and reduce it to rubble, the other was a potent but controlled version of wildfire. Unlike wildfire, the fire bolts would cause localized fire and as such, infinitely safer for the attackers.

And that was what Lord Voldemort did – instead of wasting time with conventional siege warfare, he simply rained those bolts of his everywhere on the islands. The docks were set to fire, castle walls were destroyed, boats were sunk. All without losing a single Northern vessel. The direct effect was that Iron Born's morale was truly broken – who can withstand the fury of gods? The hidden effect, the true message was however directed towards foreign lords present in the attacking fleet.

Tywin Lannister was the first one to realize what this new mode of warfare meant. No more long, costly and boring siege. His new allies could simply raze any hostile castle to ground and that was the end of story. All his plans to cow the little lord would have to be reconsidered. Not that he was going to use them anyway. The other Westerland lords knew there was finally someone more fearful then there own overlord, but since that person was so far off, they were relatively safe.

The King on the otherhand, did not particularly care. He just drank and laughed.

The Lords from Shield Islands and the lone Redwyne that happened to tag along with them on the other hand, were starting to plot on how to get these "exploding bolts" for themselves. They had heard of the prowess of death eaters, the takeover of Three Sisters and capture of Gulltown. But, they HAD NOT SEEN it all with their own eyes. So, as far as they were concerned, Lord Voldemort was just a child with some toys. It should be easy to trick him right?

Finally, the other half of Northern fleet arrived. This one brimming with troops. Thousands of troops. Just like that, soldiers flooded the islands, mercilessly killing anyone with a sword or dressed in armor.

In less then a day, the conquest of Iron Island was over. Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon subdued Great Wyk. The Reach Lords were included in the charge against Harlaw. Lord Voldemort himself took Pyke. The other lords either stayed in the ship or were allowed to participate in the takeover of remaining four islands. Quiet a few lords were disgruntled when they were relegated to the role of "honored spectators" or worse, common foot soldier. Apparently, there was a standing order that only "qualifying commanders" may lead the Northern soldiers and most lords did not qualify. Despite many angry, ruffled feathers, no one folded on that one – neither Lord Voldemort, nor the local unit commanders.

It can be argued that as bad as things turned out for the Ironborn in general, the fortune of one House Greyjoy proved to be even worse. Pyke was the first to fall. Lord Voldemort, his death eater and the elite soldiers under the lords personal command stormed the island as if it were full with nothing but toy warriors. According to the rumors, Lord Voldemort personally executed Balon Greyjoy without a second thought. Apparently, he killed the ugly old bastard by a glare that would have frozen Blackwater Bay.

Balon Greyjoy's brother Victarion who had arrived with his fleet was killed by an errant exploding bolt. Sailors saw him skewered by the bolt and blasted into pieces. Balon's eldest son, Rodrick was killed somewhere in Riverrlands. The second son, Maron Greyjoy Robert's warhammer right on his chest. His youngest brother, Euron turned out to be the smartest of all. Euron was tasked with assaulting Old town and harrowing Redwyne fleet. The moment he saw Voldemort's fleet, he took his fleet and escaped towards the summer seas. So, there were only three Greyjoys left – 10 year old Theon, 13 year old Asha and the mad Euron.

Finally, all the victorious lord congregated in the castle of Pyke to determine the future of Ironborn while the looser lords were marched in chain and paraded as if they were monkeys for show. King Robert, the most joyous of them all opened the assembly with, "My Lords, we have achieved a great victory here. These filth thought they would dare challenge the might of House Baratheon and look at them. There Lord Paramount dead, his family reduced to nothing but two child of 10 and 13. Rest of the lords in chains. What do you have to say Iron filth?"

As much as the lords loved Roberts boisterous nature, they all had a single thought, "Is this man serious? This was a Northern victory. There Navy. There soldiers. If anything, the savages are flexing there muscle and we are being warned not to mess with them. They don't think Vale was enough for us." The Northern commanders however, had varied reaction. Some were snickering at the stupid king. A few on the other hand tightened there hands on the pommel of their well crafted sword, ready to cleave the fat king who had the guts to steal there limelight.

Ned Stark, both peeved at the King and also, sensing his countrymen's mode, spoke up, "Be that as it may, Ironborn have tasted the ire of North. Now, perhaps we should show them Northern mercy? Nephew I think you have some thoughts on that matter?"

In someway, Ned Stark managed to mollify his men and remind the rest that the victory belonged to the North, not anyone else. Before Robert could intervene, Voldemort started, "That I do Uncle. The first thing is that we need to ensure these men can never threaten us again. You don't want me to exterminate them.." Everyone gave a sharp jerk at that word but Voldemort continued without hesitation, "so, what I propose is that we need to change there way. Balon's father attempted to change how these men lived. And he failed. His son wished to be Lord Reaper, bring about the old way. Salt wife. Loot. Rape. Pillage. Plunder. That is not acceptable? We all agree?"

"We do" chorused the assembled Lords.

"And we can't really exterminated them?"

Everyone except Tywin shouted, "NO….." The captive ironborns were particularly vocal.

"Therein lies the dilemma. We let the Ironborn continue the way the have been doing, this situation will come again and then, the Northern navy might be busy elsewhere. So, I say let's change there way. We are going to remove every single salt wives and thralls from the island here. Any Ironborn that refuses to change his way will be executed. The only ships they will have from now on will be fishing vessels. As of today, warships belonging to North, Riverrlands and Westerlands will keep constant patrols in these islands – no more will the Iron born be feared."

"Hear, Hear", shouted the lords. Given all the lords ferocity, Robert was forced to go along with them.

"And what about the Lord Paramountship of the Islands? The heirs are both children. House Harlaw will be glad to be the regent until their age of majority", spoke Lord Harlaw, who happened to be hogtied along with other natives.

Before anyone could support such proposal, Lannister growled like his houses namesake, "I will not see any Greyjoy become lord of anything. The time of Greyjoys is long done."

One of the Reach lords, probably a Targaryen loyalist grouched, "Then what? You want to butcher these children too? Just like Elia and her children?", unknowingly throwing the tow kids in a pool of fear.

Voldemort quickly intervened, stopping a shouting match of epic proportion, "Watch it – situation of the Targaryens and that of Greyjoys are very different. Even then, I don't think Lord Lannister wanted the children brutalized. I say send the boy to faith, the girl will be fostered in Winterfell and married off appropriately."

"Why not have the boy fostered too?" asked another toady.

"The boy is to be a Maester or a septon. There is no other future for him. And, I will not let a potential enemy inside my home", spoke Voldemort in a rather chilling tone.

"The girl is not an enemy? Girl can kill just as good as a boy", perhaps the first sensible thing said by Robert.

Voldemort smiled and said, "She is not going to get any martial training, nor will she live in the inner keep. We will have that covered. No need to worry about how I keep my damn castle safe."

"So be it then boy – do what you will with the remaining Greyjoys. Harlaws will be next Lord Paramounts of Iron Island. Is there anything else? I need my cock sucked and I have the perfect Iron bitch in mind", spoke Robert.

Lord Mallister, who had somehow managed to sneak into the fleet lead by Ned jumped in, "The treasury of Pyke your grace. How do we divide it?"

"Half of it goes to us – we were the one to destroy the rebel for the Iron Throne. Remaining will be broken down between Shield Island, Lannisters and yourself, seeing how your three house were the most affected", put forth Voldemort.

A rather peeved Robert turned towards Ned Stark and sour faced, "See Ned, what that useless brother just cost me? Half the treasury of Pyke! If that lout hadn't screwed up the royal fleet, it would have been me that taking that treasury instead of your damn nephew."

After that, everyone broke into there own small cliques. Unfortunately for the Ironborn, no one realized the long term implication of what Lord Voldemort meant when he proposed a patrol of Iron Island. Voldemort was planning to maintain a permanent fleet in Pyke itself, with the castle of Pyke as his bastion, and with the treaty worded in such ambiguous manner, there was nothing anyone could do. He had smartly inserted a clause where only the North would be able to maintain a supply depot for ALL the allied fleet. At that time, the Lannisters and Mallisters were happy that Northerners were footing the bill but eventually, they would realize their mistake when Voldemort would start charging outrageous price for the services of his naval base. By then, it was going to be too late. All hail Lord Voldemort. This would however give Voldemort a second, somewhat unwanted nickname – **The Merchant Wolf,** not that it would bother him.


	11. Back Home

AN: This chapter doesn't have much action, mostly Voldemort catching up with his family and Northern politics. It will probably be more politics in next chapter or two. And, those chapters might be coming a bit late then usual. Construction work in my area is causing problem with cable. I also uploaded a one-shot SI/OC fic for Game of thrones. Had it written for ages.

 **Table of Contents**

Month 8, 288 AC – Voldemort's POV, Winterfell's 1

Voldemort and the little ones – neutral POV 3

After dinner meeting, V with Stark family – neutral POV 4

Lord Voldemort POV 6

POV Jason Snow, First Death Eater 9

Lord Voldemort POV, Death Eater Tower 12

 **Month 8, 288 AC – Voldemort's POV, Winterfell's**

The last year and half had been hectic. Yet, it was productive in a way that these filthy, undereducated primitives cannot even begin to imagine. Starting mid 287 AC, I ended up living in the shit hole called King's Landing and even now, my nostrils seem to be complaining. I had changed Earth into a utopia with complete removal of muggle issue – no pollution, more gardening. The North had it's own rugged beauty. But that shit hole? It might give a dark lord an aneurysm.

Despite that, my stay proved to be fruitful, strategically, politically and economically. The emotional torture of Jon Arryn, Petyr Baelish and some of the other stuffy lords was plenty fulfilling. Almost as good as torturing the pureblood swots. Alliance with Lannister was already giving dividends – Tullys were now history. House Mallisters, the new Lord Paramount of Riverlands were in my pocket. The Iron Throne had been marginalized.

Vale was effectively neutered given how I took the Three Sisters and Peninsula of Gulltown. Not just that, once I get started on my plan to arm the mountain men of Vale, there is not going to be the Vale for much longer.

The Freys were all gone and so, there former domain, crossing of Twins belonged to us. Do you understand what that meant? For the first time in recorded history, our influence was being exerted beyond the Twins. We were getting more trade from south – Northerners may not like southerners very much, but no sane person will say no to trade. Not just that, if need be we could immediately deploy troops forward – something like a rapid reaction force.

Then, we come to pacification of Iron Islands. Balon Greyjoy's folly was godsend. I already had two naval base on the Eastern side. Now, I had a bona fide naval base on Western side with cheap, skilled workers to the boot. Even better, both Lannisters and Mallisters were planning to maintain patrol around Iron Island AND they would have to pay us for supplies. A naval base that does its own upkeep? Ever heard of that?

The smaller military base disguised as trade center in Lannisport was something that didn't have to be talked about. If the lions were to get even a bit uppity, the men stationed there could easily lay waste to the whole city and potentially, to there home itself. Glorious.

All in all, for a single year of hard work, my country prospered beyond anything. But, for now it is time to focus inside the North itself. No matter how the outside, if the inside is not robust, you will fall.

The first concern I had was all the marriage proposal. Wizarding world was much simpler. If you love someone, marry her. Fuck the consequences. No pesky contract marriage – not even your parent can force your magic to accept someone else. But these feudal lords? Something truly is wrong with them.

Regardless, back to the contracts. In fact, marriage contract was being sent not just for me. They were coming for my younger cousins too. Ned and Ashara had a bunch of children. Eldest being Arthur, named after Ashara's brother Arthur Dayne, the Kingsguard that Ned killed. Why the pair named the kid after an idiot who idolized a raping bastard, I would never understand. Next was a spitfire, Arya – she was my mothers favorite niece. Wicked with any weapon, hell raiser to the extreme, she had decided to be one of the death eater early one and who was I to deny such a request? Finally, we had the wild Rickon. Behaved like a wolf and determined to stay as an undisciplined little turd for the rest of his life. I was surprisingly fine with it.

While Ned and Ashara wanted to OK some of them on behalf of their children, mother put her foot down with, "They might be your children, but my son is the head of house. He will decide their fate." Privately, she remained Ned how they both were almost screwed over because of betrothal and neither of their children were going to suffer the same.

So, they kept sent letters saying, " _Until the return of Lord Brandon Stark, Head of House Stark, Lord of the North, no betrothal contract can be finalized. Thank you for your understanding._ " That did put a halt in incoming barrage of betrothal contracts.

Finally, after everything I arrived in Winterfell. Everything seemed to be well. Both Bella and Narcissa enthusiastically greeted me – the girls were getting along fabulously with mother, Arya and the weapon trainers. Queen Cersei seemed to have turned native – gone were the extravagant gowns, tiaras and useless jeweleries, instead she was in an attire that reflected what mother was wearing. Warm furs, form fitting trousers and a few blades. When mother first started wearing breeches and carrying weapons, there seemed to be an outcry about impropriety from a number of fools, but given her brutal and ruthless conduct, by now no-one every questioned what she did or did not do.

The rest of family were doing equally well. Ned was beaming since Ashara was pregnant again. This would be their third child. Benjen, who so far had remained unwed and content with the whores (former pleasure slaves from free cities) of Volcano Town, was running drills. His intent being to show me how well the guards of Winterfell were trained.

All in all, things were going good in Winterfell, or so it seemed.

But, as they say, appearances can be deceiving. Just after I greeted everyone, Benjen dragged me to a corner and said, "Tom, there is a family meeting tonight. It is imperative that you be there. Try not to drink too much wine." At least I would have a few hours to talk with my little cousins.

 **Voldemort and the little ones – neutral POV**

It was the little Starks who were most excited about Voldemort's arrival into the heart of North. Little Starks as in 6 years old Robb (Ned and the late Catelyn Tully), 4 years old Arthur and 3 years old Arya Stark. The proud children of Ned and Ashara Stark. Ashara was pregnant with the third child but wasn't due for few month more.

And back to the story. Both children had been hearing much about their elder cousin. While the four year old Arthur did have some distant memory of Voldemort before he left for South, the younger Arya had no such recollection. After all, she was only 2 when he left. Even then, the stories told about Voldemort were almost as fascinating as those of White Walkers and Winter Kings of the old. As such, both were rather excited upon learning the impending return of their so revered cousin.

The moment Voldemort entered the gates of Winterfell, both children rushed in comical fashion towards the entrance, their guards trailing behind.

Soon, their larger the life cousin greeted them, "My little cousins – Arthur, Arya. You have grown!" and grabbed them in a bear hug.

With a laughter, the two kids dragged the dark lord to their designated play zone, all while under the watchful glance of guards and death eaters. The play zone was something created by the resident death eater of Winterfell. A combination of modern wizarding child's room and educational center. Instead of a maester, they were being taught by a death eater! Not that any of their parents knew it.

While the two children chatted incessantly about all the trivial things, all Voldemort could do was to think about the absurdity of the situation – the most feared dark lord of Earth playing some juvenile game with a pair of children in world of Westeros. "Marvelous", he commented to himself.

 **After dinner meeting, V with Stark family – neutral POV**

"Well that we are all here now, let us get started. My stay in South, no matter how distasteful have proven to be most profitable for the North. Winterfell seems to be doing excellent but Uncle Benjen seems to think there is some issue here. Care to explain Uncle?", opened Voldemort.

Benjen, took a deep breathe and spoke, "Well nephew, you are right in that your southern stay has been fruitful. Our remarkable victory against Vale, Iron Island and even the Riverlands has everyone in OUR kingdom happy. Excellent morale. High born or low born. Lords or small folk. Every one is happy."

"So what is the issue Uncle?"

Ashara, who handled most of the finances spoke up, "The war – we were victorious yes. Absurdly so. The training system by death eaters was most well done. But, the war was costly. Not so much in resource, but in work force. The men are yet to return. Yes, I know they are required to be there in order to keep our territory. And, that is the problem."

"Explain please."

"No one is there to work the field. Our graineries are not full and Citadel says winter will be here in less then a year", whispered Ashara.

Concerned, Voldemort asked, "Is it possible to trade from free cities? Perhaps from say Reach?"

Ned, who had so far remained silent spoke up, "The possibility is there but if we were to do that, it will let them know we are weak. Some of the more influential merchants, slave traders mainly are rather cross with us given how well Benjen managed to buy the most skilled slaves. Worse, their city leaders are worried we might attack them."

"Then think we might attack? Why would they think so?"

"We buy slaves and free them. That is frowned up over there. They know North was the first kingdom to outlaw slavery here in Westeros. Since we have been buying slaves and setting them free, you see why they might think so", completed Ned.

Mother added, "Then think about our massive boost in the military. We single handedly wiped out the Iron Island and humiliated the Arryns."

Understanding dawned on Voldemort, "Well, if we were to try and buy grain from them, they will either extort an exorbitantly high price or simply not sell any. After that, when we starve during the Winter, they might attack our fleet. Improbable but within the realms of possibility."

Benjen again spoke, "Buy grain from Reach has the same issue – not about them attacking us, but about being extorted. Of course, there are plenty of spies all around so, once we start buying grain, the bastards in Free Cities will know about it quickly and same situation."

Voldemort drums his hand on the desk and after a few seconds asks, "What is the production rate on the green houses of Volcano Town?"

Benjen looks befuddled but answers, "Pretty good actually – it should be able to feed at least the entirety of Winterfell and that town if we were to ration food supply. Not great but enough to survive the Winter."

Voldemort gets into a more commanding tone, "Well then, I will see about expanding the green house some more. Then, we will start stocking up on our sea food – fish, crabs, shrimp anything. We are lacking men to work in farms? From now on even women will start working in farms. Tywin Lannister owes me enough favor so I shall have my men discretely check with him about buying some excess grain. Uncle Benjen, you know more about the wood lands then any of us – start organizing hunting teams. We will start hunting and preserving enough meat. Send word to folks villages to do the same. Mother, set up a team that will check which village or castle gets how much food from here. Also, tell the lords that if I were to find them starving the small folks, they will face your tender mercies. Uncle Ned, I will need you to oversee the making of another fleet – this one will be a fishing fleet. Aunt Ashara, as usual you will have to do the numbers."

Ned, always the cautious one, cautions, "That is an excellent plan nephew but I have two concerns. Having women work the farms instead of men might not work very well – for one, the lands are brittle and you would have to be plenty strong, the other being tradition. Next concern is with Tywin Lannister. He is not someone worth trusting."

"I do agree lands being brittle so, I was thinking about setting up teams to go around and plow land that are too hard. Else, we can chose land that are softer. As for tradition preventing women working the farms, when it comes to survival, nothing matters."

Lyanna quickly gave something that sounded like a "Well said".

Voldemort continued, "And for Tywin not being trusted. Uncle – Tywin Lannister can be trusted to do what is best for him. At this moment, what is best for him and what is best for us is the same. Given how mother and Cersei seem to be joined together, you can just imagine."

Despite Lyanna's indignant "hey", the elder Stark all share amused looks and finally a red faced Lyanna replied, "Bah – Cersei and I are happy, no one is hurt. So, does it matter? And, if this matter is settled, then my lover is waiting for me as such, I declare this meeting done for. Good night family."

With head held high, Lyanna stalked out of the room. Then Voldemort spoke up, "Well uncles, aunt – before we retire, I do have one final thing. We need to call a general meeting with the Lords of North. Something like a huge feast. Let's say it is in honor of our victory against the south."

Ned replied in a speculative tone, "That shouldn't be an issue Tom. If we were to send ravens tomorrow, we can have everyone here in about two months. Many lords did return just a while ago, as you know."

Ashara follows up, "You do have another reason for this, don't you? It is not just about a meet and greet."

Voldemort gave a chilling smile and said, "Let us just make sure Lord Bolton is here. And his bastard son – Ramsay Snow too. We can write a raven saying how Uncle Ned wishes to talk with Ramsay about judging his feasibility as heir of Dreadfort given the recent death of Bolton's heir."

Benjen, who had always hated Roose smirked and said, "Bolton's days are numbered I presume?"

"As they say uncle, the only good traitor is a dead traitor. And I do not like good traitors."

With that, Voldemort starts to stalk out of the room. Unfortunately, Ned has other plans for him. "Tom – there is still the matter of all the betrothal proposal that have been sent. We do need to talk about them."

While Voldemort mutters some obscenities, Benjen handles the matter with, "Brother – lets handle that tomorrow. We are all too tired for it. In any event, betrothal should be an excellent topic for breakfast conversation, what say you good sister?"

Ashara gives a devilish smile and answers, "Right you are good brother. We will convene on that matter tomorrow. For now, we shall retire."

 **Lord Voldemort POV**

Painful. Painful is what all this ruling is, I think to myself. The state of North wasn't good at all. Soldiers deployed to the frontier. Food supply running low and the winter coming near. A winter that might last more then a year. Perhaps a year or two. A world where seasons lasts for years not months. Never had I imagined something like that.

No matter what, the plan I came up with was somewhat sound. With a bit of trickery, I should be able to buy or better take enough grain from Tywin Lannister and no hostile (or potentially hostile) force would be wiser about our precarious position. One can only hope.

The next morning, breakfast was a boisterous affair even if the ones in attendances were 7 Starks (myself, mother, Ned, Ashara, Benjen and the two children), Queen Cersei and the two Black sisters. After we were all fed and watered and the children dismissed, I finally asked the question.

"All right then – so, what is the situation with all betrothal requests being forwarded here?"

With a slight smile, mother pulled a large basket from underneath the table. "Here. These are all the betrothal requests that have arrived for you". Another smaller basket and, "And these for the little Arthur and Arya. We probably should setup another basket for the Black sisters. Given with your announcement about starting a House Black with the two girls, there will be plenty of requests coming soon."

"I trust they have all been replied the way I asked for mother?"

"Yes. Even then, we will have to start writing out more definitive replies soon. Do you want to go through these letters son?", asked mother.

"No need to – send them all the same reply saying I am not interested. As for my younger cousins, they will marry whoever they want to. I will not force them in anything. Same goes for the Black sisters."

Cersei, who had so far stayed silent finally speaks up, "Perhaps that might not be the most diplomatic way to answer the offers? Your answer might end up alienating the Lords which is never a good thing unless of course you want to start punishing them for every single misdeed."

Damn woman. She is right. I can't start apparating all around Westeros and throw crucios, no matter how tempting that might be. "What do you suggest then Cersei?"

"Send letters telling them how you cannot make your mind to marry at this time and wish to wait in order to find the best Lady of the North. As for the betrothal contracts for the little ones, put the same word out. Let them know the children will be allowed to grow up unencumbered with the issue of betrothal until they attain majority. That will buy us time – 10 years at the least. And by then, you will be strong that the individual anger of any Lord won't matter", counseled Cersei.

Lyanna smiled happily and spoke to all of us, "See, my beautiful paramour knows how to play the game. Did I not tell you?" The last was pointed towards Eddard. Who knows what the righteous fool might have said regarding the relationship between the two women.

We all look at Ned who shirks a bit and says, "No need to rub it in my face Lya. I am sorry for my words Cersei. My humblest apologies."

This time it is the Queen of Westeros who gives a sharp look and says, "See that you don't repeat the same mistake Ned."

"Well if that drama is over, perhaps we can get back to the issue?", Benjen snarked even if he was smiling at the byplay.

Ashara, in what was possibly an attempt to stir the pot questioned innocently, "And what issue would that be Benjen?"

"Why but the future bride of our Tom here!", crowed Benjen.

Irritated, I looked at mother and said, "Perhaps you would like to retell what you told me there at the Neck? You know about possible brides right before we killed more Vale men then any Northern lord ever has?"

Lyanna then started in a serious tone, "In that case, Cersei if you will?"

"Of course my love!" - sickening I thought. Cersei continued where mother left, "The North's biggest weakness is the population and even more, lack of food. Allying with Tyrells can solve that. Mace Tyrell has a daughter, Margaery Tyrell who is supposed to be beautiful and smart. We can have Tom marry her, then the fertile lands of Reach will feed the hungry stomach of North. More importantly, if Robert were to decide and march against us, he would not have the armies of Reach. Just so you know, Reach can raise an army hundred thousand strong."

Mother gave a happy shout, "Exactly. Marrying Margery would be a definite plus that way. But, Mace is a big fat fool and seems determined to have his daughter as the queen of Westeros. With Arryn whispering in Robert's ear, it might work, it might not work. So, we do need to look someplace closer to home. Wylla Manderly. Eldest of Wyman Manderly. Manderlys are very loyal to us but with the navy growing, we might want to tie them a bit closer."

Ned talks next, "Then we have the Mormonts. Not particularly rich but plenty loyal to us. Lord Jorah Mormont seems interested to see his sister Dacey married to you. I have seen the girl once or twice and she is a strong one. A fighter that one. But, I have a feeling that she doesn't want to marry – the girl probably wants to be the lord of Bear island."

Benjen is the last one to talk, "You can of course grab Daenerys Targaryen – she and her brother are hiding in Essos. We Starks already have magic in our blood – wargs, green seer and what not. That girl might bring dragon too. It would be glorious." He gets a bit goo-goo eyed at the last. "Imagine if we were to have a dragon!"

Ashra laughs and puts her two cents, "Dragons might be a bit fanciful but good brother, I don't think they will survive the cold. Princess Arianne Martell might also be an option. But with the recent alliance with Lannister, Doran Martell might not even entertain the notion of talking with you."

Ned starts with, "Nephew, did you have to ally with Tyw..", when mother blasted, "Who cares what Martell wants? Tywin Lannister killed his sister and her children, but the man is content to sit doing nothing. If he couldn't start a war, he could have just sent an assassin or do a hundred other things. I hear his younger brother wants to come and kill Tywin but is stopped by Doran. Coward."

I grin and reply, "No matter what our thoughts on the Lannisters in general and Tywin Lannister in particular, I do have to ask, did all of you get together and decide who would talk about which girl?"

Then, I continued, "Bah – no need. Like I told mother, I intend to tour the kingdoms in near future and well, I will visit the houses individually and see whether I can forge something or not. As for Dacey, she is 12 or so, is she not?"

Ned answers, "I believe so. Why?"

"Bear Islanders teaches their girls to be warriors. Dacey doesn't want to be sold off like a cow, so I am thinking to give her a chance to be one of my death eater. It should keep Jorah from being noisy."

"That sounds fair. I will have Jorah bring Dacey with him when he comes to Winterfell next. The man intends to attend the tourney Lannister is throwing for victory against the Ironborn", put forth Ned.

"And what about the Manderlys? Like I said, as loyal as they are, power has a way of changing people. So, we do need to tie them closer to us", repeated mother.

I thought for a bit and spoke out, "I will announce the formation of Combined Armed Force – a way of tying all the Northern military under the control of House Stark. The major houses have already provided most of their troops, now we simply start mixing them around. Sure the commanding officers will still be from said House but by the time I am done, the overall loyalty will be to the North and as such, House Stark. My Death Eaters will control the troops and the commanders. The fleets while managed by Manderlys are mostly manned by small folk from our area. Either way, we will handle them."

"Even then, I think you should tie the Manderly's with our family", spoke Cersei.

"Our family?", Lyanna gave her an amused glance.

Cersei grew red and mumbled, "Just came out."

Annoyed, I growled out, "As beautiful as this lovers talk is, please clarify how exactly do you think I should tie knot with Manderlys? We have already established I am not going to marry anyone just yet."

"I doubt Benjen will agree to marry Manderly's sister given how much fun he is having in Volcano Town. I won't let Lya marry anyone, she is mine. So, why not foster some of Manderlys sons? Maybe even induct them in your death eaters. That might do the trick", intoned Cersei.

"Perhaps, we shall see. In that case, shall I consider all the matter on marriage and Northern politics closed for now? The new DE recruits are waiting to be inducted and well, I have kept them waiting for far too long.", I grouched.

Mother looked around and said, "I believe so Tom. You should get to your Death Eaters and after that, may be talk with your uncles about the military? Benjen has been handling the training along with one of the DEs anyway. And Cersei, we need to talk with this me being yours. I don't think your gods will approve of us – only the old gods might."

With that everyone took off, the two women to god knows where, Ned and Ashara towards the nursery probably for little Rickon. I stalked forward towards the First Keep, which was nowadays called as the Death Eater tower.

 **POV Jason Snow, First Death Eater**

I was just a bastard. A good for nothing bastard. Excellent with a sword but no future to speak of. Then, Lady Miriam Stark chose me as the sworn shield of Lord Brandon "Voldemort" Stark. That changed everything.

The very day I swore myself into his service, I had a feeling my life changed for the better. Not just in the traditional sense that I might finally rise from the bastard-ness, but as in a grander sense. After the swearing, Lord Voldemort and myself, went for a walk. As elated as I was, I was equally confused. The young Lord, despite being only 4 years old, had the knowledge and wisdom of a man grown. Once we were out of prying eyes, he asked, "Jason, I have plans. Plans that you can't even dream of. Plans that even Aegon the conqueror hadn't dreamed of. For that, I need followers, soldiers and advisers. you have already sworn yourself to my service, but now I am going to ask something more. Will you swear your very being me?"

He radiated a sense of purpose, power and an intent that defied belief. He hadn't promised anything but, the intent was there. Despite being a measly four year old, we all knew he had power – stabbing Lord Karstark was proof enough. And the purpose. Dreaming beyond Aegon the conqueror. I, Jason snow, a lowly bastard would stand beside the man that would surpass the dragon king himself. The answer was clear.

Without any hesitation, I dropped to my knees, bowed my head and swore, "I swear my being to the service of Lord Voldemort until the end of time."

He murmured some nonsensical words, almost like a chant. I felt a slight headache, thumping perhaps. Then, he said, "I accept your service Jason Snow, the first Death Eater in Westeros."

The headache worsened and he commanded, "Go, get some sleep. I performed a little spell that will teach you things even the Maester do not know. By tomorrow morning, the headaches will subside and you will be the deadliest man in Westeros."

After that, as they say my whole world changed. I slept the night without a sound. But at the same time, I dreamed. I dreamed and dreamed. The spell he did, whatever it was filled my head with knowledge. Combat training. Medicine. Poison. Strategy. Mathematics. War fighting. Engineering. It was all there. I knew more then any of those Gray Rats ever would. All those maesters – arrogant cunts all around, knew less then me. I now fought better then any warrior. Even the kingslayer or 10 kingslayer would hold no candle against me. The combat training that Lord Voldemort got from his first home world was beyond belief.

I, Jason Snow, had transcended from a lowly bastard to a lean, mean, fighting machine dedicated solely to Lord Voldemort.

The very next day, I asked him, "My Lord, why not use that spell of yours and make a hundred death eaters like me? We could do just about anything."

Tiredly, he replied, "Life is rarely that simple Jason. That spell has many restrictions, mainly on who the recipient can be. Has to be of blood of first men. A certain level of physical fitness. Mental strength. Dexterity, and so forth. Also, do you truly think you can use all that knowledge perfectly?"

I thought for a second and replied, "No, I can't my lord. I will have to practice a lot and even then, I don't think I will truly excel in anything beyond war and combat."

"Now you see. No single man can do everything, don't except to be perfect. I simply except you to be the best commander there is", he said without looking in any particular direction even if I felt the weight of his words.

"I understand my lord"

With that, I began an interesting journey. Soon, I was training troops and selecting some new death eaters. Just like that, our number grew from just myself to ten. 10 death eaters might seem too little, but given how much we could do, it was more then enough for now.

Not just that, Volcano Town was another brilliant idea from LV. Sometimes, Lord Voldemort scares me and raising that Volcano was one of them. It was a weapon of mass destruction and he commanded it with just a single day of work. As scary as that was, it was also exciting. Soon, the North would rise and none of the Southerners would stand. Maybe I could talk Lord Voldemort into causing a Volcano right on Hornhill? Damn Randyl Tarly. Think it is funny to sully a Northern maiden? Just you wait.

Unfortunately, I couldn't be accompany him into King's Landing given his plan for the Vale, but the other DEs were rather happy by how well the southerners were being harassed. I had been worried with his absence, the military training would break but given his dark mark, it was easy to relay information back and forth.

The little war against Vale was another brilliant example of what the good lord could do. And, I commanded the troops. Sure, the other "Lord" of North were in charge, officially speaking. But, they all knew who truly spoke for their master. In his absence, my word was the law (unless his mother were to override my orders. No one was foolish enough to go against Lord Voldemort's mother).

Then of course, we also had to suppress the little Iron Born rebellion. Fools. If only they had talked with us first, then we might have been able to work something out. Instead, they saw our attack on the Vale as a sign of impending civil war. Tywin's attack on Riverrun as the central region of Westeros being in chaos. Balon Greyjoy simply decided that the North had sent all it's military south and south had sent their military to the Neck. So, in a fit of glorious insanity (supported by partially correct information), he attacked everyone. For which, we wiped him out.

Now, we have naval base in three regions.

* Iron Islands, with Castle of Pyke as base of operations. Force projection against the Western side of Westeros. Dorne most likely.

* Peninsula of Gulltown – House Royce now firmly sworn to the North since they are convinced of return of magic. Excellent point for force projection against eastern side of Westeros.

* Islands of Three Sisters – Taken by the Vale 3000 years ago, now back to where they always belonged. Naval defense against any sea born attack on the North. From free cities mainly.

We did have a trading post in Lannisport and a mansion in King's Landing, each carrying plenty of soldiers. King's Landing actually had almost a battalion worth of troops, commanded by one of the most senior death eater.

As much as our victories were important, the politics were equally important but that was not my concern. Let the Starks handle it. Ned Stark was good for it wasn't he? Righteous pig. I wouldn't say it in front of my lord but it is still the truth. I might have to respect him since he is Lord Voldemort's family, but the man irritates me. Too righteous. Too rigid.

The education spell or as LV calls it, death eater spell, had taught me about Total Warfare. I was devoted to total warfare. And Ned Stark would object to it. And, Lord Voldemort would humor him since he truly cared for family.

Because of that, while Lord Voldemort was busy catching up with his family and figuring out the political situation, I was busy with the military situation.

Currently, I had 20 new recruits ready to be inducted as death eaters. There were plenty others in training but the standard policy was that every new death eater would have to be attached to a senior death eater for almost a year before being certified for independent operation. And well, with just 10 of us, that was simply not possible. Even then, 4 of us were currently deployed in hostile or potentially hostile location (Iron Island, Three Sisters, Gulltown, Kings Landing). The new recruits would be moved around in the North for a bit and then deployed to the South for more hands on training, but that is neither here nor there.

The troop situation was something entirely different. Despite all the easy victories, LV had insisted that the military was to be kept where they were. So, we still had men posted in our overseas location. It meant we did not have much in terms of reserve. At least the local Lords had taken to maintain patrol and kill bandits.

Even then, why was I getting the feeling that it wasn't enough? Then I realized what Lord Voldemort said in the earliest days. No man can be perfect. Not even Lord Voldemort can do everything by himself, we, the death eaters should be his extensions. When he gave me the vast quantity of knowledge, especially of muggle soldiers, there was one thing about morale. Victory is not the only thing that guarantees morale. The communication with their family can be equally important to increase morale. I need to talk LV into setting up a proper postal service for the North!

And, I also need to institute a draft. Everyone of age will have to get some military training. That way, there will be a fighting force in every village instead of having to have patrols going around. It is not like weapon is particularly expensive given how much ore Volcano Town makes.

 **Lord Voldemort POV, Death Eater Tower**

As I made my way into the Tower, Jason was the first one to greet me, "My Lord, the initiates are ready any time you wish. My self and 4 other death eaters are here to supervise them once they are done."

"Excellent", I told him. His tone however was a bit something. So, I continued, "Is there anything you wished to speak of Jason?"

"I do my lord. Perhaps we can speak of it in your office?", he asked.

Once in the office, he gave me his spiel about setting up a post office so that the fighting men could stay in touch with their family and also, a more general training program for the villagers.

"You do bring some good ideas. Excellent ideas. In fact, I am letting you be in charge of implementing them. Coordinate with my mother if you have to but start working on it. Don't worry about how long it will take, it won't be a very high priority for now."

"With you mother, sir?", he gulped.

I laughed and said, "She scares everyone, doesn't she? Very well then. Talk with Uncle Benjen. For the postal service, see about troop rotation too."

"Troop rotation sir?"

"You know, move some troops from one location to another. I want my troops to be familiar with every location. We might even start an R&R point for them."

"Troop rotation sounds like an excellent idea sir. We could start shuffling some reserve troops with the more long term combat or something. As for R&R, your Uncle Benjen might be best. The Death Eaters will also be happy to have some R&R", Jason spoke happily.

"You need some R&R eh?"

s"It is not so much as need, more as we are getting bored and well, with nothing going on R&R might as well be something."

"Haha – don't worry there will always be something for you DEs. Even then, death eaters can probably walk into most castles or military bases and get the best accommodation. Why exclusive R&R?"

"That is just the problem sir. We are either held in awe or in fear. Usually it is a good thing, but eventually, it gets a bit too old. Perhaps a place meant solely for the DEs and the more elite troops?", asked a hopeful Jason.

"Go to Volcano Town, carve out a decent sized isolated spot. Have it marked as restricted training ground or something. Isn't that easy?"

A more contrite Jason replied, "Yes sir. I just needed your permission."

After that, I spent the day finalizing the new death eaters. 30 new death eaters. 10 senior, with plenty of battle field experience, 20 newbies. They of course had their own elite troopers, whose number were still growing. The Tyrells might say "Growing Strong", but only I took it to heart.


	12. Observations of the uninformed

AN: Finally a new chapter ! No internet for more then a month thanks to the bastards who handle construction around here and my own issues. My update pace should go back to normal now. This one is somewhat rushed to make up for the lack of updates.

LCF – _Tupac ain't too bad. Tupac might say "Me Against the World", in Westeros it is Voldemort against the Westeros (maybe not the North but still)._

nobody: _I am addressing the logistics issue the Voldie will face shortly. I am trying hard not to fall in the same category that other author do, namely a fearless, smart leader who focuses on internal development of the North. Voldemort is not quiet the sort of person who will expend much on raising crops. If you are powerful enough to extort money off the rich southerns, Voldemort won't think twice about extorting food material from them. But yeah, he will have to careful not to start an all out war – the Voldie I am portraying is trying extra hard to cause all around chaos that will last for a long, long time. Straight out war might cause pain for now but eventually, it will lead to peace._

Elquenodebesernombrado - W _hat you say is absolutely right. I will fix that slip up in next chapter or two. And no, he won't be educating the masses – not yet, after all those without magic don't count much in Voldemort's eyes. However, his eventual goal is to have a kingdom full of wizards that will continually laugh their ass off the filthy, warring muggles of the south._

Light Lord Cybergate – _Voldy is going to do some awkward romancing soon. You will probably have to wait for a few more chapters yet though. Already wrote a piece of him wooing one of the beauties of GOT/Asoiaf. Just hang tight._

 **Table of Contents**

Lannisters 1

Margaery Tyrell, Highgarden Reach 3

Dorne 5

Small Council Meeting, King Robert and the councilors 6

Somewhere in Bravos, the Last Targaryen and their minders 8

A random mountain man 9

House Mallister, Riverland 9

Mance Rayder, Somewhere in the far Northern 10

Three Eyed Crow and Children of the Forest 10

 **Lannisters**

Greyjoys were history, there was no doubt about that. If Lord Voldemort's new methods were to come to fruitations, the Iron born way would be no more. He had pretty much removed the Iron born threat except for the fleet that belonged to Euron Greyjoy. The good news was Euron Greyjoy was said to be sterile. The bad news was, he still had a fleet, however rag-tag and he was most likely very, very angry. And, that anger would most likely be directed at Westerlands and Reach. He might want to direct it at the North, but the damn Northerners were too far off and too strong.

As such, Tywin Lannister was concerned. He was very concerned. Lord Voldemort had established the North as a power that could have rivaled Valyrian Freehold if those dragon lords were still around. He had no doubt that if dragons were to come, Voldemort's scorpio bolts would drop them out of the skies.

Oh, those bolts. Marvelous inventions and absolutely out of his reach. The Northman wasn't going to give those bolts away, he was sure of it. He was acutely sure that those bolts had changed the way war was done in Westeros. Even the Rock would fall if Voldemort's ship were to come sailing.

Just months ago, he was thinking of how to counter the Northman, now it seems he might have to think of how to survive the Northman. His brother Kevan and his sons were waiting for him in his private parlor but he had no idea what to say.

"Brother", Kevan greeted.

"Father", "Father", both Tyrion and Jaime intoned.

"Lannisters – it seems we are all here. So, what do we have now?", the lion started.

Kevan loudly retorted, "The damn Northerners, what else? Everything was going just as usual before the damn volcano. And damn Lord Voldemort."

Jaime, who had been much more subdued given his dungeon stay in the North spoke angrily, "Watch it Uncle. They have given us no cause for anger. If it wasn't for them, if it wasn't for Lord Voldemort, my sister, your niece would still be suffering that fat king. The Tullys would still be mocking us. Forgot the fish 'n chips we are enjoying right now?"

Kevan seemed to deflated a bit and said, "I know nephew, I know. It still doesn't change the fact that we are now the SECOND most powerful house of Westeros. Especially with the way they smited the Iron born. Lord Voldemort can destroy the Rock itself if he so wishes."

Jaime in a bit more serious, less angry tone asks, "So what if we are the second most powerful house? We have the backing of most powerful house of Westeros. A defense aliance. The Riverlands will be our client state in all but name. Same with Iron Islands – did you forget the treaty forced upon them? Sure, the Northerners are taking the largest portion of the lands and riches, but we get the next part WITHOUT DOING ANYTHING. The bastards of Vale are done for. We can do just about anything here in the South and no one can stop us."

Tyrion prodded, "Not even the Reach?"

"The flowers? Don't jap Tyrion. They haven't set an alliance with Voldemort. I bet the Tyrells are going to have problem from the fuckers of Shield Island, who have already set the ground work of alliance with Voldemort", said Jaime.

Tywin, smashes his cup and angrily shouts, "I don't believe what my own son is saying. Are you content with being second best? We are lions, they are all sheeps!" The last is delivered as a growl.

Jaime just says, "Father, I have learned that there is no wrong in bowing head to the gods. A single one of his death eater wiped seven of us kingsguard, including myself and Selmy. Look what happened to the troops who were assembled to march into the Neck. Half of them wiped out by freak thunder and lightning. An act of the gods that was."

Tywin was still gathering steam when Tyrion smirked, "And father, when you allowed them to build that Trading outpost, what did you think was going to happen? He has the outpost built on top of a cliff, with clear view of both Lannisport AND Casterly Rock. Would you like to bet that he does not have those wonderful scorpios and ballistas ready to fire at a moment's notice?"

The old lion gets an ashen face while Kevan concludes, "The moment we make a single wrong move, he will start firing those damn bolts of his. No more Casterly Rock. No more Lannisport."

Tyrion adds, "And who knows how many soldiers, archers he has? With the outpost being on top of a cliff, built more like a fort then anything, it would take us at least a month to break through. By then, his ships from Pyke will be here. See? No. More. Lions."

The two senior Lannisters grab their heads in apparent defeat. Tyrion then happily continues, "Father, looks like there is someone much much smarter then you. And now, you have no choice but to comply."

Tywin growls angrily, "We will see about that. A faceless man. No, they will demand something outrageous. A sorrowful man. That is it. Lets see how that will hold up against the boy."

Tyrion smacked his much feared father to the surprise of everyone and shouted, "What is wrong with you old man? Even with Lord Voldemort gone, his army won't be gone. His death eaters won't be gone. And, they will come looking for vengeance. I witnessed them in King's Landing after you all left. Their devotion is single minded. But, their brains are not clouded. He has built a system that can survive without himself. I will not die because my father's ego can't suffer someone who is smarter then him."

Jaime then added, "And I doubt a sorrowful man or even a faceless one can do anything. Those death eater, they are beyond anything."

Kevan finally said, "Let us just play his game for now. We will see how the future goes, perhaps have Cersei's daughter marry the boy and by tying our families, there won't be no need for hostilities."

With that, all the Lannisters stayed silent, unsure of what the future might bring.

 **Margaery Tyrell, Highgarden Reach**

Margaery was a girl of 8 and a rather smart on at that. Her grandmother, Olenna had taught her well. She knew she would be sold off to the highest bidder someday, all for the good of her family and that she would have to charm her man to stay in power. Her beauty and her wits were her only weapons, that was drilled into her pretty little head since the day she was born.

And wit she had. The moment she realized her value as a pawn, she saw everyone around as a pawn. Even her oh-so-loving grandmother. She knew Olenna Tyrell loved her for what she was worth in terms of her wit and beauty, not for herself. Her mother did not matter, Alerie Tyrell was meant to look pretty and warm Mace Tyrell's bed. Alerie did that job well and that was that. Mace Tyrell on the other hand was a bloody fool who was intent on selling her to the highest bidder and that happened to be Joeffery, the crown prince at the moment, at least in Mace's eyes anyway. She hated her father with a vengeance. Her brothers were well, pointless. Loras was a fop who was happy with Renly's cock in his ass. Garlan played with his troops and nothing more. Willas was busy with his hounds and did not have time for his sister. Unfortunate, but that was her life.

As such, she was determined to make the best of her life. For that reason, she would spy on her father and grandmother whenever possible. This time was no different. It wasn't that hard anyway, the two were so loud that she could hear them two doors down.

Hidden behind the intricate dresser, Margaery was noting what the argument was about. Apparently, the two were in the middle of a heated debate about the Master of North, Lord Voldemort. Mace was still adamant that the Crown Prince was the highest bidder for Margaery's cunt but her grandmother seemed to favor Lord Voldemort.

"Mother, I want my grandsons to be Kings and Princes. Wouldn't that be grand? Next generation of Tyrells would sit on the Iron Throne. What would that Northern savage even offer? More war? Eventually the might of Westeros will crush him", pontificated Mace.

"You dumb fool! Lord Voldemort's fleet crushed the Iron Born in three days! Three Days! Can you believe that? Even the gods are on his side if you believe the rumors. How do you think the Royal Fleet failed to do it's job? Either the Northerners sabotage it from across the country or they had agents filled in the capitol. His reach seems to be longer then ours. He has Lannister in his pocket. Don't you get it? He is the power. Now those scorpio bolts we have been hearing about, better then wild fire or so they say", put Olenna.

"So what? He still has to bow before Iron Throne", smirked the oaf.

"When did I give birth to such an oaf?", lamented Olenna to Mace's chagrin. Then she said again, "Did you not hear what he did to the Hand of King right in front of full court? And the taking of Gulltown? What about killing the Riverland's lord paramount? Forget that you fool?"

"All endorsed by Robert", said Mace with a dismissive gesture.

"Because he did not have a choice you ignorant turd! As of now, that savage can kill, replace any lord or even Lord Paramount and no one can do anything. That is how strong he is."

"Surely you are not saying he can attack us mother. We can raise an army hundred thousand strong", said a somewhat concerned Mace. Did my useless father finally grow a brain? Thought Margaery.

"Why not? His ships can go anywhere. Tywin Lannister is not going to stop him, he might even assist Lord Voldemort. Riverlands is in shambles and can't do much against the North anyway. He has a clear way to us."

"So, we offer Margaery's hand to him then? A way to make an alliance with both the North and by them, with the Lannisters too", spoke a somewhat enlightened Mace.

"Exactly. And, we will also ask that the wedding be delayed until Margaery reaches 16, so we have 8 more years to make a decision. Who knows? By then things might change. The savage might fall from power. May be Margaery will learn enough to control the savage.", smiled Olenna.

"As always, you know best mother", said Mace.

Margaery on the other hand, was seething. "Sell me off, why don't you? And then, plot against my future husband too. Call him a savage too. Just you wait you misrebale old hag and stupid oaf, I will show you." She then set off for her own planning. Let her slave-masters send the betrothal contract, if the Lord Voldemort is smart enough, he will go with her plot instead of succumbing to her masters. "There will be reckoning", thought the Rose of Highgarden.

 **Dorne**

As usual, Doran Martell was sitting in his chair. But, unlike his usual self, he wasn't calm. He wasn't centered. He was agitated. His thoughts were scattered.

His younger brother, the hotheaded Oberyn Martell was pacing nearby. His 14 year old daughter Arianne Martell was sitting nearby, playing with her dagger. His wife, Mellario while angry at her son being sent away to be fostered with Yornwood, was still by his side, trying to calm him down.

Oberyn mocked him, "I warned you something was happening down at the North didn't I? You were the one who preached to wait and guess what? Damn Northerners now have a power base unrivalled by anyone. Fleets. Doran, Fleets. Fleets that can reach here in a heartbeat. A whole fleet that sailed from the East, from White Harbor to Iron Island in less then 2 month. You and I know the Starks are probably still angry at how their sister was held prisoner in our lands. Do you.."

Doran, now angry shouted, "Yes Oberyn, I know. The moment they find we knew Lyanna Stark was being held in Tower of Joy, that fleet will sail straight for Sunspear. There is no question on that. Lannisters will most like join them because you have been running around proclaiming vengeance. I know damn it. I know. I need suggestions from you, not this mocking. Unlike the Targaryens who marched our deserts, they will land troops. Three thousand troops they landed in the Iron Island. They might land even more here."

His wife mocked him, "Why not sell of you daughter now? Seems like another way to make peace for you. After all, you already sold off your son."

"Please Mellario, not now", pleaded Doran.

"Then when? Bring back my Quentyn. Bring him back now", shouted his wife.

"We might be under the threat of war and you are bring this again?", the cripple seethed.

"Yes. It seems like an excellent time."

Just then, the 14 year old butted in, "Father, a betrothal between myself and Lord Voldemort might be an excellent idea. If it works, there will be peace. Else, I can poison him and be done. My happiness means nothing when the survival of our own house is at stake."

Doran, despite the glare of his wife, gets a painful look and says, "Thank you for your sacrifice daughter. I shall write a proposal tonight and send it by raven. We will see how it goes. Meanwhile, Oberyn, you will set sail for the free cities and have the pirates and all your mercenaries pay attention to the Northen merchants. Harass them, kill them. I don't care. Just don't let our involvement be known."

Oberyn responded with a gleam, "I shall set sail immediately brother."

Doran's wife, Mellario on the other hand wasn't happy. "Spineless coward. Sold your son. Sell your daughter. Incapable of avenging your sister. It seems I have married a coward. What will happen if they find your involvement in that plot? A raven will come for the Yornwoods instructing them to hold my son as a hostage or have their house destroyed by those exploding bolts. If this insane plot to work, get my son back. With Arianne being sold off, he will be the heir anyway."

Doran thinks for a bit and says, "I shall do so my lady." [ _In book, his wife Mellario leaves for Norvos after the disagreement about their son being fostered with Yornwoods_ ]

 **Small Council Meeting, King Robert and the councilors**

The atmosphere was tense. Whether because it was due to the individual councilors concern about the newly exhibited superpower status of the North or because of Roberts anger towards Stannis, there was no way to tell. None of the councilors were stupid enough to start the meeting and direct Roberts ire towards himself.

Robert, irritated with the inability of his councilors to talk straight, grumbled, "What is it with all you dumb bastards? None of you can formulate a single sentence? Here I am, angry beyond belief and can any one of you buffoons guess why is that?" The monologue was delievered in a perfectly calm monotone that hid a dark rage.

As said earlier, none of the small council members were stupid enough to guess Robert's reason, even if they had their own idea. "Northern aggression", one thought. "Because your brother screwed up and you lost gold to squander", thought another. One more privately thought, "How would I know? I am not the big fat lard ball, am I?" All in all their thoughts were all over the place and yet, no one was going to say shit to Robert.

So, Robert yelled, "Cowardly currs the lot of you. I know every single one of you are thinking of reasons why I might be angry and yet, none of you can say it."

Varys, the ball-less wonder, decides to grow a pair (imaginary anyway), and says, "I believe you are upset about the threat that the Northern military posses to the stability of realm."

Just like that, Robert's anger peaked and the threw his wine goblet towards Varys's shiny head. "Fuck the Northern military. Fuck the fucking Realm. And fuck you you fucking shitty master of whispers. I am fucking angry because my fucking brother lost me half the treasury of Pyke to the fucking Northerners."

Stannis quivered in his seat. Varys, covered in wine and exhibiting a swollen forehead courtesy of the wine goblet, cowered further. Robert continued uncaring about the reaction, "What is the use of all the gold dragon wasted on the Royal Fleet when it can't be mustered on time? The Northern fleet can sail all around Westeros and reach the Iron Island, but the Royal Fleet can sail from here? Stannis, were you busy sucking someone's dick? I have half a mind to flog you and send you to the wall."

Stannis turns pale but Robert stills continues yelling, "And, where is the god-damn Master of Laws? Where is Kevan Lannister?"

"I am afraid he had to go to the Westerlands your grace. It seems the iron born raiders did more damage then initially expected and so, Tywin Lannister called every highborn for damage control", replied Jon Arryn.

"And why did you not go the Vale Lord Arryn? After all, Vale suffered plenty, correct?", asked Varys.

Arryn gave the spider a venomous look and said, "The interior of Vale was largely untouched. If it wasn't for the failed attack on the Neck and then the stupid march done by Harrold Hardyng, things wouldn't have been much bad for us. As it stands, me going back to the Vale won't do any good."

Robert grumbled some more and said, "Well, no matter what, go to Vale, don't go to Vale, it is your damn kingdom after all. Stannis, make sure the fleet is in working shape – you have a month to prove yourself or you are going to the wall." With that ominous warning, the uncaring king left, probably for his whores.

Then the debate started. Jon Arryn, who had a singular hatred of the North and an ax to grind with Lord Voldemort ordered Varys for every scrap of information he had on the savages. "Varys – tell us everything you have on those savages. Everything, leave nothing off."

And Varys did not disappoint. He told everything that he knew, which wasn't much. "My Lords, there aren't as many little birds in the North as I would have liked and so, what I know is not the latest, so you will have to pardon me." (internally he was cursing – he had NO LITTLE BIRDS in the North. They had a habit of vanishing without a trace)

Then he started to spiel a tale that was more fitting to a tavern then of the Small Council meeting. Stannis was the first to let him know that, "Varys – you don't expect us to believe that do you? Chosen by the Gods? Raining fire from the heavens? Lightning and Thunderbolts?"

Pycelle, who had been instructed by his Lannister master to keep the focus on the North, in a good light, jumped in, "Well, is there any other explanation Lord Stannis? If the tale were coming from just a few drunk soldiers, we could discount it all as mummers tale. But, we have heard it from some of the most credible lords. Lords and Knights alike. Same tale. Tell me they are all drunks and liars."

Arryn is the next to talk, "Be that as it may, chosen by the gods or not, we can't just give up against them. The have already grabbed portions of Vale, who knows what they will do next?"

Varys tittered with, "Surely you cannot be suggesting we go to war! The realm cannot afford a war." As much as he wanted the strength of the North curtailed, going to all out war was not an option, not now anyway. That would destroy the realm – there would not be any realm for his Targaryen masters to return.

Baelish, whose phantom pain had finally subsided proposed, "Well, since we can't go into a straight out war, why not impose some economic sanctions on them? Throw in some decrees that makes their life harder."

"Excellent idea Lord Baelish. I want you to start working on the trade sanctions. Report to me immediately", crowed Arryn.

Stannis, who so far had been quiet rebuked, "You fools – you think some puny economic sanctions will hurt them? Unless you start attacking them, it is not going to do shit. Now I am going to get drunk, might as well have fun this last month of my life as a free man." Just like that, the man who was known for his Iron discipline, left the council room. All the other councilors looked at eachother, somewhat relieved that the dour, strict man was gone but at the same time, fearful that they also might suffer his fate. They knew in their heart what the possibility of them surviving the wall was – slim to none.

After Stannis left, the remaining councilors made some small talk, cursed the North for breaking the statuesque and left for whatever mundane things they usually did.

 **Somewhere in Bravos, the Last Targaryen and their minders**

The two Targaryen siblings, Visereys and Daenerys were living in a somewhat decent mansion with their protector Ser William Darry. Unfortunately for them, Ser Darry was sick. Sick like a dog and wasting away at an alarming rate.

Just days earlier, Prince Oberyn Martell had arrived from Dorne and with him, came the latest news of Westeros. It was alarming and utterly mind boggling for Visereys. The very idea that the savage Northmen could possibly take on the whole seven kingdom, be favored by the gods was unthinkable.

Even worse, the previous agreement about Martells signing a betrothal agreement between himself and Princess Arianne Martell, in return for Dorne's support for his bid to the Iron Thorne was not going to happen. Apparently, the vipers were too damn afraid of the savages. He wanted to scream but he had nothing to scream against.

"At least the viper bitch will kill their lord if needed", he mused.

His little sister, the six year old Daenerys was a whole different story. She seemed enthralled with the story of the North. Well, to be fair, he was also somewhat happy at how they killed almost 15 thousand men who might have aided Robert Baratheon. He wanted to beat the little girl but, sick bastard that he was, he knew Daenerys's value was in her beauty and he should not be risking it.

Not just that, Prince Oberyn had decided to stay with them for a few months more. He did not know what the dornishman was planning but was told, "It was to teach the uppity wolves a lesson in humility", and as such was all good in his book.

What neither party realized was that Oberyn's stay with the Targaryen siblings averted a very unfortunate fate. If the dornishman hadn't stayed there, once Ser Darry died, the two childrens would be kicked out and be forced to beg for a living. Prince Visereys would earn the title "The Beggar King". Turns out the actions of Lord Voldemort always helped him, knowingly or not. After all, Voldemort's mother strongly suggested him that he should embarrass the old way and steal Daenerys Targaryen as his bride.

Daenerys was happy as she got a playmate in form of Oberyn's bastard daughter. Visereys was happy since he got to ogle Oberyn's paramour who had a tendency to run around half-naked. Ser Darry was happy since there would be someone to protect the children after his death. Only the viper was not happy because he was unsure of the future. It was too uncertain, too clouded. Somehow, he had this feeling that death was staring upon him.

 **A random mountain man**

By the old gods! Our day has come. It is time to take vengeance. These filthy andals suffered by the hands of our Northern brethren. Soon, they will suffer by our hands. The chosen of old gods, Lord Voldemort, Master of the North, chieftain of all those with blood of first men, had sent a messenger to us about providing support. And what a support that was! For the first time in a thousand year we had proper steel armor, weapon and food. He even supplied a few weapon trainers. Most of us had some issue with the weapon trainer but after a few fights, the trainer got along just fine.

By the gods, within a year we, the mountain men will be a proper fighting force. A mountain army we shall be. No longer will we be confined to raiding villages, soon we will be raiding castles and killing the knights.

All you proud Vale Knights, we are coming and with us, comes death!

 **House Mallister, Riverland**

Riverland was still in chaos but not as much as it used to. House Mallister had solidified it's hold as the new Lord Paramount. Lord Jason Mallister was a very busy Lord Paramount – his lands were not in peace. Brigands and rioters all around. A significant majority of small folks had absconded towards the Twins, which had been taken by the North. He had assumed that after the Iron Born threat was done, they would turn back but oh no. They were all staying in that narrow slip of land. It meant empty land, little food production. All around trouble.

But, he was confident that he could handle the place well enough. With his heir Patrek Mallister (15) and daughter, Leha Mallister (5), his lineage was more or less secure. The loot from Pyke had added nicely to his coffers. All in all, he was good. Or, that was what he thought.

The one thing neither he, nor any one else thought of was what Lord Voldemort intended to do with Riverlands. Ned Stark did have a son with the very deceased Catelyn Tully. A son named Robb. And, Voldemort was not going to let Riverlands out of his total control, was he? Mallister might be the Lord Paramount now, but with a daughter the same age as Robb, lets just say, death eaters are an expert at removing obstructions to their Master's dream. His heir would not grow to be a lord, that was for sure.

 **Mance Rayder, Somewhere in the far Northern**

For the past three month, Night's watch deserter Mance Rayder had been running for his life. Insane – Half insane fear, half from cold and a bit from hunger, the once fearless Ranger was a trembling mess. During his journey to the far North while escaping the Night Watch party chasing him, he had encountered the Ice demons. White Walkers. The bane of humanity. Somehow, he had managed to escape the blue-eyed icy bastards and was now headed towards wildling terriotry, safe from any pursuing rangers.

Just like that, all his fear was shuffled sideways and the only feeling that was left, it couldn't be summed in any manner. Where did the fear of the white walkers go? Where did the fear of being consumed by the wights go? He had no clue.

If only Mance Rayder was familiar with the ongoing of Westeros and the stories of Lord Voldemort, then he might have understood what had happened. After all, a bunch of juiced up necromancers and their icy constructs did not count much against Lord Voldemort, the darkest of all dark lords. There number might be an issue but fiendfyre, the fire from hell devoured magic. And well, wights existed because of magic.

Despite his fear vanishing, Mance Rayder was determined to unite the wildlings or as they called themselves, the Free-folks and march through the wall. The watch might have raised him but strictly speaking, they orphaned him first and then raised him to kill his own kind. His duty was to the survival of Free-folks, his own people. Fuck the Night Watch. Fuck the White Walkers. That was what he thought.

Unknown to him, the aforementioned dark lord would be paying him a visit soon. And his fate would change.

 **Three Eyed Crow and Children of the Forest**

Lord Brynden "BloodRaven" Rivers, legitimized bastard of Aegon IV Targaryen had lived as the Three Eyed Crow since around 252 AC, not that anyone really knew that. Since about 40 years ago, he had lived fused inside a weirwood tree dreaming of a bleak future. A future with nothing but darkness and cold.

But, since the last few years the future wasn't so bleak anymore. At least for the North anyway. And for some limited, sea facing parts of Westeros – areas with beach. He had no idea what that meant. That long night was supposed to start from the North and shadow over the Westeros. The Starks were to be destroyed. Yet, the future he saw was nothing like that. The Starks were everywhere. He could not see specific face or names, but he knew the Wolf banner would be flying high and mighty.

And then he saw the best thing. The old gods would be in a world of pain soon. That was the best vision he had ever had. It was those tree hugging bastards that had consigned him to this wretched life of living as a stinking, rotten tree trunk. Foresee the future but incapable of intervention. Observe the happiness of his once while friends but not participate.

The only company he had were the long lived children of forest. Melancholic fools – that is what they were. Always crying about how the world was going to end and they would go extinct. They had magic didn't they? Why can't they do something about the end of world then?

While he was thinking such morbid thoughts, the thought process of children of forest was on a whole different spectrum. The had just realized that magic was much stronger. Each and every one of them could feel magic singing through their veins. And, it was growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. Soon enough they might be able to truly live again instead of hiding here in the trees. Why, they might even survive the long night. With magic coming back, there was no telling what they might be able to do next. But, if only they could get this stinking Three Eyed Crow off their lands.


	13. A very new chapter!

AN: I haven't been able to write much due to a wrist injury few month ago. My wrist was more or less totaled. Expensive surgery followed by more expensive physical therapy has me somewhat functional. Means I will be writing a bit more often but we will see. Updates will probably be sporadic. Although I have about next three chapter worth of material worked out, who knows when they will be done.

That said, I have posted a Hagrid in Westeros with Arya as his side-kick story. Completely breaks the story line after Harrenhal. Check that one out.

Pairing will be Voldemort/Val/Dacey/Margery/Dany. Not exactly like Voldie is going to marry them all but more like he starts a relationship with them all and like an idiot who had never really been in a proper relationship, entertains the viewers.

I have had readers asking questions regarding where the story is going and for now, it is mostly Voldemort hurting the rich muggles of Southern kingdoms – emotionally or otherwise. Unlike other stories where northerners tend to go about stomping the southerners, Voldemort has a different gameplan – chaos. All he wants is to raise the North as a kingdom of wizard and the rest of world can go hang itself. Let there be chaos. Something like a television show for the megalomaniacal dark lord.

I will probably start answering PMs sometimes during mid-July. My physical therapist is a complete bastard about taking it slow when it comes to computer. Thing is, when I walked into the office, there were two therapist – the first was a rat bastard. Second one was a babe who could put Lena Headey to shame. I was praying for the sex on legs to be assigned to me. Unfortunately for me, a plus size woman got the hottie and I had to work with the rat bastard. Irony of life. Worse, my insurance covers only a part of my physical therapy and it is bloody expensive.

This chapter is short, but next will be longer.

 **Table of Contents**

Direwolves 1

Lord Voldemort, Research Yard, Volcano Town (POV: LV) 4

 **Direwolves**

This was the latest deserter amongst the many that had happened in last few years. Somehow, the watch had made a habit of losing it's soldiers to cowardice lately and that trend did not seem to show any signs of stopping. The only difference between _this_ deserter and the many deserters before was that Lord Voldemort had shown a personal interest in this one. The lord himself had decided to perform the execution or so everyone had assumed. Everyone as in his mother, the queen Cersei (who happened to be his Lady mother's not-so-secret paramour), his uncle, his aunt and even the household guards. Only the death eaters knew better. But again, they always knew better when it came to there lord _and they never bothered to enlighten those who need-not-be enlightened._

The execution spot was drab, just like most of the North. Cold. Deary. Dry even. As the small party including the Stark household (as in the whole household, counting the Ladies. Lord Voldemort's mother had done away with, in her words "ridiculious", notion that women can't attend execution) stood around the deserter, Voldemort approached man and spoke, "Deserter – any last words?"

The deserter blinked his eyes a bit. Perhaps amazed that he was allowed to speak? Then he started to tell his story. A story about where cold raised the dead. A story of dead walking. A story of white walkers. The long night.

Everyone except the death eaters and Voldemort were shaken. Ned Stark shook himself and, "Nephew – this is preposterous. This man is clearly delusional. He is nothing but a coward who has made up this elaborate fantasy to run away from his vows."

Some nodded at his statement, some looked undecided. Voldemort on the other hand simply answered, "Perhaps. Perhaps this man is delusional. Then in that case, the other 100 or so deserters, were they all delusional? I have been told by you and the other lords that all of them were exhibiting signs of fear and dismay. Extreme case of fear, hopelessness. Were they all executed without interviewing?"

Ned Stark gave a simple answer, "The law is clear nephew. Any man who deserts the night watch must die. No exceptions."

"Perhaps. But, decisions made in panic does not reflect upon a man. Even then, so many hardened men showing similar signs of fear should have raised concern. It should have been brought to my attention."

Ned Stark and the other senior guardsmen start to fidget a bit. LV continued, "I am inclined to believe that you and the other lords decided to follow the law without stopping to think. For that, you have the benefit of doubt."

They all knew LV wasn't one for mercy, especially when it came to incompetency, and that this was an olive branch. A chorus of thank you came around. "For now, this man will live. I wish to know what he knows or at least what he believes. He is remanded to the custody of Death Eaters."

Soon after that, the party started to make their way home. Some of the men, especially the old guards were a bit grumpy about the young lord's action but none were foolish enough to challenge him or even appear to challenge him.

Halfway to Winterfell, the party came to an abrupt halt. A giant wolf, that seemed to have just given birth was lying prostrate in front of them. Six tiny pups were yapping around the mother wolf in a futile attempt to get her to move but she was clearly in her death bed. [AN: _Unlike canon where the mother-wolf dies due to a stag, thus indicating that Baratheon being the death of Starks, in this story, nothing can truly threaten Voldemort. So, the wolf is dying due to birthing fever._ ]

The elder Starks, mainly Ned and Lyanna thought of how only 15 years ago Lyanna was in a similar situation. Even Voldemort was reminded of the same. No matter how much of a cold hearted maniac he was, letting a mother die in her deathbed was unacceptable. The whole Potter business was an exception anyway.

Jorry Cassel was the first to break the silence, "What kind of freak is that?"

Ned Stark who had adopted a stony look answered, "Not a freak. A dire wolf."

Another soldier replied, "A dire wolf this far south? White walkers. Dire wolves. Not good I tell you."

Cassel in his all knowing persona spoke, "My Lord, I think it is best we put them all down. The bitch is in pain and the pups won't live long without their mother."

At that the Stark children (Robb, Arya, Rickon) gave horrific shout and the ladies (Lyanna, Cersei and Ashara) prepared to tear him a new asshole. Ned was about to agree when the steely, venomous look in his nephews eyes stopped him. One thing he had learned over the years was that whenever Tom got that look, it meant he was beyond angry. He had that look when Robert tried to lord over in Winterfell. The same look came when he was informed of how Tully delayed his crossing through Riverlands. And the same look was there when Martells were found to be complicit in his mothers suffering. Well Jorry Cassell, I can't help you – Ned thought.

A bone chilling voice permeated thorough the winter air, "Ser Cassell, I do not like idiots. I do not like upstart. And you seem to be both. Who do you think you are to advocate the killing of beings such as these? Beings far superior then your pathetic self?" Every word was delivered with a venomous hiss but wrapped in a monostrous growl.

Cassell, seeing the hot bed he was in, "My Lord, please I did not mean to offend.."

"But you did Ser Cassell. You did offend very much. You wanted to kill these wolves. A mercy you said, didn't you? In fact, I will give you the same mercy that you wished for them. If any of these wolves die, so will you."

Alarmed, he shouted, "My Lord, surely you do not mean that?"

"I very much mean it Cassell. Be very glad that I have not included your family. You attempted to kill totems of my house, by all rights I should eradicate your line."

Cassell and indeed, many of the other men who might have thought the dire wolves were not meant to be around here paled at that. They all knew Lord Voldemort placed value on many seemingly insignificant things. Slights made against House Stark or even the North thousands of years ago had been paid in full by him after all. He was also known for punishing anyone who desecrated or even looked at his house banner wrong. So killing the totem of his house? That was indeed a crime worthy of eradicating an entire generation. To the lord anyway.

Ned Stark, sensing the grim situation and potential for destruction of Cassell line, "My Lord, perhaps we should send Cassell here to Winterfell. Have him bring carts, water and food for the wolves? Maybe some warm fur too?"

Without looking at anyone, Voldemort threw, "Aye – make it so Cassell. Best hurry up fool, for the wolf dies, you die."

Just like that, Jorry Cassell and some of the men took off towards Winterfell while the rest of them stared as Lord Voldemort approached the wolf.

The mother wolf was lying down, incapable of moving on its own but that did not stop her from making threatening gesture to the humans. After all, she had to rightly assume that the two-legged creatures meant harm to her litter. Some of the humans left for parts unknown while one of the two-legged ones, perhaps their alpha?, slowly walked towards her.

Tom knew what it was like to be weak, cornered and surrounded. He had a pretty good idea as to the wolf's mindset. Fortunately for him, the wolf was incapable of moving and as such, there was no risk of him being wolfed down.

Slowly, he approached the mother wolf and pushed a bit of magic, just like he had done with his own mother back in Tower of Joy ages ago. That tiny bit of magic seemed to rejuvenate the wolf. Breathed a new life into the previously dying creature.

The wolf realized something. Whatever the human did, it healed her. Not enough to run around, but enough that it no longer hurt. Enough that she was not longer in pain. This particular human was not an enemy, that much she knew. A friend even. Her pups, who had so far just tried to get her to respond started to suckle for milk. All six of them. Even the tiny, albino runt.

Around them, everyone were simply amazed. The idea that Lord Voldemort could befriend a giant direwolf by just approaching it seemed to be ludicrous. Then, Lyanna, without thinking jumped off her horse and walked towards the pair.

"We need to get her cloaked son. It is getting cold and she is not completely hale and hearty yet", and draped her cloak over the nursing mother. Instantly, a connection formed between the two mothers – one human, the other wolf. Apparently, all the younger Starks _and_ the Lady Stark were getting a personal animal guard.

 **Lord Voldemort, Research Yard, Volcano Town (POV: LV)**

Every rich man has to have a bachelor pad. For an aimless, rich idiot that means an isolated place filled with all amenities he could ever desire so that the idiot can impress some big-titted airhead bimbo. But, I was a very rich, very powerful lord. I had no need for a bachelor pad to impress big tits or a place to conduct my illict affair. I did whatever I pleased.

That said, I did need a quiet, private place to conduct my magical experiments. My research. So, I had my own research yard. You could say, my home was my bachelor pad. And I maintained my research yard for my illicit affair. Makes me sound like a muggle geek, don't it? Laugh and I will just crucio you.

The unnamed research yard was a secret known only to a few of my top death eaters and no one else. Not even mother herself. That was where I conducted all my experiments.

During the takeover of the _Three Sisters_ and subsequent campaign in Riverrun, one thing became abundantly clear. We needed a way to supplement our sentries that patroled camp ground. Apparently, enemy scouts had been able to approach the Northern encampment under the cover of darkness. Thankfully, unlike the muggles of Earth, these muggles lacked the mental aptitude towards war – otherwise, they might have wrecked havoc by setting the place on fire or something innane. The answer? We needed something like guard dogs. The muggles used german shepard and various breds of attack dogs to extreme effect. But copying a page from them would be too pedestrian for me.

The symbol of House Stark was a direwolf. Intimidating. Fierce. And rare. As such, completely useless when it came to battle. A basilisk stood for House Slytherin. An incarnation of death which can be killed by the crow of a rooster. If it wasn't a bad joke, then what else could it be?.

That meant I had to find an animal which did not have any such obvious weakness. Even better, an animal which I could bred the way I wanted. The answer was cereberus. Hell hound. The three headed dog that guarded hell's gate. The three headed dog with a serpent for its tail.

Unlike basilisk which was bred by incubating a chicken egg under a frog for almost two years ( **AN: I am making that number for the hell of it** ), Cerberus on the other hand was much easier to bred. The unenlightened might think a three headed dog would have to be either a magical bred or a mutant. The truth however, was far more simpler. All it took was exposing a pregnant female dog that had eaten a venomous snake to hell fire in such a manner that instead of being burned by the unholy fire, the dog would absorb it. Not particularly easy, not even for an accomplished necromancer. Fortunately, I was more then an accomplished necromancer.

Note that hell hound from the greek mythologies had no weakness compared to the common cereberus of wizarding world which would fall asleep when exposed to music.

Initially, I thought to use some of the regular bred of dogs as the starting point of my cerberuses. Then I had an inspiration. Why not use direwolves? That ought to make the outcome even better right? I already had a direwolf bitch and her litter of pups. But, I needed more. So, it was time to scour the wilderness beyond the wall [ **AN:Details of Trip beyond the wall will be in later chapter** ] and voila, I dragged a whole pack of direwolves home. Before hand, I had a single direwolf bitch along with its pups, who were all bonded to individual younger members of the Stark family. Now? I had a full pack of them. Having a pack of living, breathing symbol of my own damn house added more power to my reputation.

Soon enough, I had five pregnant direwolf bitches with belly full of cobras and vipers, exposed to hellfire and as such, five litters Cerberus puppies on their way. The only question was how to explain those hell dogs to the general populace. My dark lord days were much easier. Never had to explain anything to anyone. _**Understanding, not important. Only obedience important**_. And the populace knew that.

But, this time around, I was playing the long game and so, could not go throwing crucios around like candies. Well, that reminds me of the crucio rods I made as an alternative to _throwing crucios like candies_. You will see them soon enough.

For now, the cerberus were all housed in my private research yard in Volcano Town, also where I perfected my crucio rods.

Crucio Rods? Well, none of my death eaters could use a wand as of yet. The potion required for the ritual that would unlock their magical pathways wasn't done. It would be a few more years for that. So, crucio rods were my stop gap measure.

Those rods were nothing but a hollow metal rod filled with a few exotic substance. And charmed to mimic the effect of crucio. A dial was provided to adjust the strength of cruciatius curse. As usual, each rod was blood bound to their owner and set to be summoned back to me if lost. Can't afford to have my enemies getting their hands of these sweet little things.

I intended to introduce these gems as the find of Valayrian expedition. **[AN: details on later chapter** ] It would a marvellous way to show how the Valayrian Freehold wasn't all that civilized. It would be an excellent way to shutdown the pie-hole of all idiots who dared put those Valayrian goat fuckers on a pedestals and call us savages.


End file.
